Goodbye, old friend

It was just a stupid misplaced step, but these days, stupid would get you killed, and quickly. As he dislodged a loose rock with his foot, he fell backward and came down hard on his arm, fracturing the wrist.

He was silent. He knew better than to make a noise when he fell, or when he felt pain, no matter how searing it was. He lay there a moment, feeling the pulsing injury and some relief that it was just his arm, and not even his dominant arm at that. But the loose rock was still clattering down away from him, taking a few other stones with it down the mountainside.

He glanced at Jenn. The noise would surely draw them out. She was always ready for just about anything, but he still admired her ability to flip the switch into her military mode. She was looking back at him, wordlessly asking how significantly he was hurt. He held up his left arm, wincing only slightly and shaking his head. She immediately started scanning around, her lips barely muttering something under her breath as she drew her hunting knife.

Ruben was slowly, meticulously rising to stand again when the first one emerged from the thick woods to Jenn’s right.

“Good,” thought Ruben. “She’s better at this anyway.”

He kept an eye out for any others while Jenn picked her way to the changed one swiftly. It was a man in his mid-forties perhaps. At least, he had been once. Jenn rapidly dispatched him while Ruben studied their surroundings. Then he heard Jenn step backward, toward him, and he knew something was wrong. Six more were practically on top of her.

Ruben knew they had faced worse situations. Still, the adrenaline hammered through him. Not his dear friend, Jenn. He needed her.

Jenn’s defense strategy was an elaborate dance, but Ruben knew the moves. He nocked an arrow, steadying the bow more than holding it, and assisted in eliminating attackers. Jenn continued methodically: ducking, stabbing, breaking. Her calculations were fluid, whereas the enemy had no perceived thought pattern.

“Thank heavens for the United States Army,” he mumbled as he blinked away the stench of the undead. “They trained you well, Jenn.”

As the last changed one crumpled, Ruben released a half-smile. They had gone through so many close calls together that this was second nature to them both. She looked his way as she retrieved her knife. She wasn’t smiling at all. It didn’t bother him. She would later. Her switch was still flipped for now.

Jenn left the two arrows and calmly marched back to him, wiping her blade carefully on her pants before replacing it in the sheath and snapping the button to keep it locked in place. Now that they were close enough, they could consult with each other in whispers.

“Sorry I fell.”

“Forget it.”

“We’re close to the antenna. I say we keep going up.”

“Agreed, finish the mission.” Jenn started back up the mountain.

“Jenn?”

She paused but didn’t turn.

“I’m sorry I fell.”

She half-nodded and kept walking.

Twenty minutes later, they were at the antenna. Some animal had gotten through the chicken wire fencing and knocked things around, unplugging the antenna from the jumper wire. Jenn arrived first and reached through the fencing to plug it back in. Ruben scavenged for suitable rocks nearby to reinforce the chicken wire. In minutes, the job was done. Although neither of them said anything, they both had the same thought: if they died now, at least they had accomplished this.

The shuffling noise alerted them to a couple dozen more changed ones appearing on the rocky slope, with more movement climbing up. Impossible to count. Fighting seemed out of the question, even with the guns they had for emergencies like this.

Standing on the mountain’s ridge, hair tussling in the altitude’s breeze, they both looked at what seemed to be their only other option: a descent down the other side. The climb would be steep, and there were plenty of drop-offs. There were some spots to grab, and they did have a rope that would help, but it wouldn’t be enough. With two good arms, it might be feasible, but even that was a stretch. There was simply no way Ruben could make it. This was a time for tough decisions. Pointing, Ruben spoke firmly.

“That’s our best option. Tie off the rope to something and start climbing down. I’ll stay and see what I can do.” He remained adamant despite Jenn shaking her head. “They won’t touch the rope, Jenn. You’ll be safe as long as you don’t come back up for a while.”

“If you’re staying and fighting, I’m staying and fighting. We have a better chance together.”

Now Ruben was shaking his head.

“No, you can still get out of this.” He held up his left arm and grimaced again, somewhat for added effect. “I probably won’t either way. Be sensible.”

He knew how to appeal to her logical mind when her switch had been flipped. She wouldn’t like it, but she might listen to him, one last time. She looked around, studying the situation, looking for another solution. The changed ones were struggling to climb up the rocky rubble. In another five minutes maybe, the nearest ones would arrive.

Jenn closed her eyes briefly as her shoulders fell. She let the switch flip back, knowing she had the time. She was herself again. A warm tear fought its way down her cheek. Ruben put his arm around her shoulders.

“You have a daughter to think about. Nobody will blame you.” He instinctively glanced at the heart-shaped locket she always wore. She sniffed.

“You have TWO daughters!”

He knew this was coming. He knew his response. She did, too. Neither of them wanted it to be spoken, but they both knew it had to be. Ruben took a moment before saying it, out of respect for the deceased.

“My spouse is still alive. My children will be fine.”

Jenn shed another tear.

“After he died, I let you help me… us. You know I never… it was never…”

“I know. And Rachel always knew that, too. She never questioned your intentions. Or mine.”

The changed ones were closer now. Even downwind and a hundred yards away, their odor prickled Ruben’s nostrils. Jenn took off her pack and got out the rope. She started to tie it around the base of a large boulder.

“I’ll take care of them, you know. Your wife. The girls. I’ll keep them safe.”

“I know.”

She was finishing the last knot, tying it off safely.

“But Jenn, you’re going to do more than that. You’re going to take charge. The town will need a new leader.”

She was now wrapping the other end of the rope around her waist. She took a deep breath and looked in his eyes.

“I’ll keep it going strong. We’ll survive.”

“We always do,” he said ironically.

Then it happened. Another misstep. She moved backward to survey the scene of changed ones coming up, just to see how close they were, and she misjudged the edge of the ridge. The rope around her waist had given her a false sense of safety, but it hadn’t been fully tied around her yet.

She didn’t scream. She had trained herself not to scream when afraid. There was a sudden, quick inhalation, and a flailing of her arms to the side. Ruben caught one with his good hand and dropped as she fell, knowing that he’d be a better anchor if he were flat on the ground. Since he was holding onto Jenn with his right hand, he tried to break his fall with his left side again. Unbelievable pain surged through his wrist as he landed.

For Jenn, the world had spun for a moment, and now the tables had turned: she was at death’s door. The rope unwound from her waist and slipped away, out of reach. In another minute, the changed ones would be at the ridge.

Ruben pulled. He tried to reach out with his other hand, but even moving his arm caused an involuntary shaking and shortness of breath. He tried everything. No luck. She was reaching for the crest, an edge, a handhold, anything, but he couldn’t quite pull her there. She extended a leg to the side, trying to hook the rope and pull it close to her, but its swing had been deadened by the mountainside.

His legs worked to find better footing, pushing some stones around, and sending another rockslide down toward the changed ones. He heard a fleshy thud as a larger rock hit one of them. In the back of his mind, he realized he’d just discovered a way to fight them off, even if only temporarily. If he could just get Jenn back on the ridge…

She looked up at him.

“There’s no time.” She let go with one hand.

“No. Jenn, NO. We can do this. Find some footing to rest your weight on. That’ll give me a moment to breath, and then…” He stopped when he heard the clasp of her knife unbutton.

Her face was calm, resolute. “If you don’t let go, I’ll force you to.” She brandished the knife. “And then you’ll be down both arms. You won’t stand a chance against them.”

Curse her logic. Curse that switch. Curse the U.S. Army.

“I don’t stand a chance anyway. My best chance is to get YOU back up here!” He was exasperated. He kicked his feet around again, sending more rocks down as a protection. He just needed a little more time. He heard several more stones make contact with changed ones. There was some distant comfort in that.

“It’s ok. Goodbye, old friend.”

He was numb for the three hours that followed. He did what he had to do, each step of the way. Just after 6:30pm, the town was in sight. As he sprinted, sweat rolling into and stinging his eyes, he heard one of the wall guards call down to open the gate. The guard naturally said, “They’ve returned,” assuming that Jenn was with him, perhaps just a few minutes behind. Like they were racing, merely school children playing a game.

He ran through the gate and motioned for the ground guards to close it behind him. The realization started to set in for those nearby. Ruben placed his hands on his hips and slowed to a walk, controlling his breathing, and heading for the schoolhouse. Brandon came to his side and extended a water bottle.

“The antenna?”

“Fixed.”

“…and ...Jenn?”

There were at least six others who stood near the path, staring, waiting for the answer. Ruben stopped walking but remained silent. He couldn’t find the words. Someone started weeping, which he took as a queue to keep moving.

He approached the schoolhouse, where some of the kids had gathered to play after supper. Evie was laughing, playing some sort of tag with two little boys. As she crested the climbing dome, the locket that matched her mother’s bounced against her neck. Ruben waited nearby until she noticed him. She grinned as she ran to hug his legs.

“Uncle! Uncle! Where mommy?” He just leaned down and scooped her up with his good arm. He rested his forehead against the top of hers, and then gently kissed her hair. Carrying her gingerly to his home, he quietly opened the unlocked door, and walked inside.

It was a tender night in the town. Hearts were full during the prayer service. Stories were shared of Jenn’s accomplishments around the evening campfire. Everything seemed very natural in the way of life these days, but still unbearably regrettable. In the coming days, amidst the bustle of people realizing Jenn was gone and adjusting accordingly, nobody paid much attention to the seven deep knife cuts on Ruben’s right arm.