No Man's Land Read online

  No Man’s Land

  Jacqueline Druga

  No Man’s Land by Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright © 2017 Jacqueline Druga

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom 2017

  ISBN: 978-1-910780-69-5

  Cover by Claire Wood

  www.vulpine-press.com

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to sincerely thank those who walked this book along with me: Thank you to Paula Gibson who is always one text away. To Vulpine Press and Sarah Hembrow. Last but never least, my exceptional beta readers of my Apocalypse Facebook Group. They are the backbone of my process.

  Chance

  September 2

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  We had been prepared, ready. We had done everything right.

  It was supposed to be a happy day, not one filled with fear and worry. It was supposed to take place in a bright sterile room in a medically stellar facility, not a dark, vile, and dilapidated tool shed in a stranger’s backyard.

  I envisioned my wife, lying in a clean bed, monitors strapped to her tight and large abdomen, the watery, swishy sound of a fetal heartbeat ringing loud in the room. Instead I watched her fight a birthing position, holding on to her stomach, while screaming to me, “Make it stop, Calvin, make it stop!”

  The happy blessed event was to be witnessed not by nurses and doctors, but by mine and Leah’s family who impatiently waited in a room, not far away, for the arrival of their first grandchild.

  We were supposed to be surrounded by those we trusted and loved. Instead we were surrounded by the dead.

  While they had many names, the Infected, the Formers, Virally Exposed or VEs, as Officials named them, most of the time I called them what they were… dead.

  I felt utterly helpless. We sought shelter in the large tool shed because it was our only viable option. It was dank and smelled of rotten flesh. After I secured the door and pulled out the flash light, I realized the smell came from the bodies stored inside the shed.

  They were placed there for a reason, perhaps a proper burial later. All of them had fatal head wounds, which told me they were sick at one point and had to be put down.

  They weren’t in any particular order, more like scattered about.

  When we first took refuge in the shed, we were at a safe distance from the throes of dead that took over the area. Our light along with Leah’s cries of pain attracted them faster, and they were relentless about trying to get in.

  They caught the scent of life; it was their meal and they wanted it badly.

  I wanted to tell her to stop yelling. To be quiet and maybe they would go away. I couldn’t bring myself to be so heartless to her pain. I just had to focus on doing what I could, which at that moment was moving the bodies and trying to create a clean area for the arrival of our child.

  “Calvin, this can’t happen. We can’t let this happen here,” she cried.

  “We don’t have a choice,” I said. “It is happening.”

  There was no doubt about it. Her waters had broken two hours earlier. We tried to keep going as long as we could. We moved slowly and steadily, leaving what would be considered a proverbial bread crumb trail of amniotic fluid.

  Boards were missing from the side of the shed. Not many, but enough for the dead to reach through, trying to get us. It wouldn’t be long before they ripped the place apart.

  Leah wasn’t well, I could see that. She hadn’t eaten in two days and she barely took any water. I hadn’t determined whether the birth of the child was a blessing, or a curse.

  Whatever we viewed the birth, the truth remained: Leah wouldn’t be around much longer.

  She had been bitten.

  The infection itself wasn’t an overnight event, it was circulating around in her veins for a while. When it finally broke all boundaries, and turned the corner from being contained to out of control, the final part happened quickly. It seemed overnight. Up until then, authorities constantly fed us information, which kept us knowledgeable. We were relieved to learn the human being safest from the virus was the third trimester child still in the womb. They had already developed enough and even if the mother were to become infected, as long as the child was born before the mother died, the baby would be safe. They found that many newly born babies carried immunities.

  There were so many reports of infants being born healthy and alive from an infected mother.

  So there was a future generation who could survive the outbreak, if there was anyone left to care for the children.

  The noise around us grew louder, arms and hands extended in.

  “Stay away from the walls,” I told her.

  “They’re gonna get in.”

  “Not if we’re careful and quiet.” I finished clearing a space in the center of the shed. “Sit down.”

  “Kill us.” She pulled out the long kitchen knife from the backpack. One of several ‘grab what could be a weapon’ in a rush to leave our home. “Please. Kill us both right now.”

  She extended the knife to me and I took it. I would be lying if I said in that split second, I didn’t think about doing it.

  Leah was going to die anyhow. All that it would take would be to kill her and the baby would die along with her.

  I couldn’t. I took the knife, placed it behind my back and told her, “Don’t be ridiculous. Now sit down.”

  As she lowered, a pain hit her. One that made her cradle her own abdomen, and drop to her knees.

  Hurriedly, I crouched down before her. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” she grunted loudly, then released a long cry out. On all fours, she lowered her head. Leah’s long hair dangled, covering her face.

  “Maybe you need to lie down,” I suggested. “Let me try to help you.”

  She screamed again, causing the dead outside to increase their pursuit in intensity.

  “Leah, please, shh. You have to be quiet. They’ll come crashing through.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best.”

  Easy for her to say. I looked down to her arm, the one that had been bitten. The wound was still gaping open three days later. It failed to heal, in fact her arm had become discolored. She was more than likely in her latent state; she had developed what was called “the scent.” Those about to succumb to the infection had an undetectable smell. They were hidden to the dead. I still was noticeable and so was our unborn child.

  If the dead made it in, they would ignore her and rip me to shreds, then if our child was born, he would be taken too.

  No. I couldn’t have that. I wasn’t ready to give up the fight.

  “Stop. You have to stop. I know this is hard. I know this is painful,” I said. “But please, try, for my sake, for our baby’s, please, try to be quiet. We have a chance, Leah.” I spoke soft. “We have a chance. They’ll eventually go away. You have to stay quiet to give us that chance.

  After a single whimper, she nodded then lifted her head. “I can’t hold back. It’s time,” she said with quiet, breath-filled words. Her face was pale and her dark eyes locked into mine. “He’s coming.”

  Recall

  93 Days Earlier

  June 1

  “He’s coming.”

  Magdalene never knew the mean
ing of whispering. She hadn’t a clue how to lower her voice. I attributed that to years of smoking and when she did talk softly, she squeaked. “He’s coming,” she whispered loudly again, peeking out the blinds of the back conference room.

  I cringed.

  “Yeah, well, he probably heard you, so there goes the surprise,” I said.

  She hushed me and waved her hand at me. She was a senior clerk at Bigby, Long and Thomas Accounting, the only other person there that could rival me for time with the company. Well, other than Martin Long.

  He had been there the longest, outliving Bigby and Thomas and while nowhere near death, he was ready to retire.

  Hence, the reason we all gathered in the big conference room.

  Martin was on his last day, he was retiring. I don’t think he expected a party, not on a Friday, when it was the norm to close shop early. Probably what Martin thought when he returned from a meeting.

  I pitched in and awaited the ‘late lunch, see ya, good luck’ event.

  The plan was for Martin’s secretary to rush for him when he stepped from the elevator.

  She did that.

  She was to inform him he had an important meeting with a client in the meeting room. Obviously, she did that since he made his way to us.

  Magdalene backed up, repeated her ‘hush’ and waited like a giggling school girl.

  The door opened and we all shouted “Surprise!” as the light came on.

  Martin did look surprised and somewhat embarrassed when we sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

  He was a good sport, waving it off with a shy, “You shouldn’t have.” Then the party commenced.

  After it calmed down some, people segregated into smaller groups. I sought some time with Martin and gave him my gift a bottle of scotch aged twenty years. Surprising me, he opened it and offered me a glass. I would have thought something that treasurable would be saved for a special occasion. I guess the party meant a lot to him.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t,” I said.

  “Come on, Calvin, I know you take the train.” He showed me the glass.

  It was a hefty helping, and I took it. After my first sip, I thought, My God, this is good.

  “More?” Martin asked.

  “I’m still working. So…” I set down my drink. “When do you leave for your Jules Verne?”

  I asked about the ‘Jules Verne’ because that was the name Martin had given his retirement trip. It was in reference to Around the World in Eighty Days. He was going to see the world, literally, every country he could. In all the years he had worked and owned the company, the furthest away he had travelled was Atlantic City.

  “Nope. Cancelled that. Margaret and I are going to Montana.”

  “Oh, wow, that uh sounds nice.” I grabbed my glass. “For how long?”

  “Indefinitely. Forever.” He shrugged. “Four square miles, secluded land, mountain range gives natural protection to the east, a lake to the north. Very secluded. Easy to barricade. About right now…” He looked down his watch. “The trucks with the booze are arriving.”

  “Booze?”

  “An astronomical amount. I have no plans to leave. Not for a while. I'll probably die there. If I leave and someone sees me, it’s over.”

  “Martin,” I chuckled his name. “What on earth are you talking about? Why Montana?”

  “I just told you …”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

  “Calvin, don’t you watch the news?”

  “Oh my God, for real? You’re worried about that?” I shook my head. “This has been going on for a year now. It’s slowing down. Okay, I can see not leaving the country, but why go into hiding?”

  “Not hiding, it’s survival.”

  “It’s over there.”

  “No, Calvin, it’s here. It’s been here for about two months.”

  I scoffed. I found that hard to believe. I really did. I followed the news. I knew what the virus was. It wasn’t a virus. It was a weapon. A new one, hard to detect and the terrorists were dropping it left and right.

  It would hit an area, everyone passed out and when they woke, they were like mad dogs. Some said they rose from the dead but there wasn’t any proof of that.

  “Who was best man at my wedding?” Martin asked. “I’ve bragged many times.”

  “General Sterling.”

  “Yes. He wasn’t a general then. Is now. He’s really big with the government. He says this thing is not a chemical weapon.”

  “It is.”

  “No, it spreads. It’s airborne. Chemical weapons don’t spread from person to person.”

  “Okay, so it’s a biological weapon,” I said.

  “That is now everywhere.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  Martin nodded. “Do you know what North Korea did early on and everyone called them insane?”

  “That’s a pretty open ended question.”

  Martin smiled. “Funny. They created bunker cities. Prepared safe zones. One bunker city per region. When the region hit a percentage infected, the healthy were given the location of the bunker city and a certain amount of days to get there. After that, the region was cleaned.”

  “Why are we talking about North Korea?”

  “Because we are doing the same thing.”

  I scoffed. “Marty, that’s nuts. I haven’t heard—”

  “Why would you?” He cut me off. “Anyhow.” He sat on the edge of the table. “I decided to make my own. My own safe place.”

  “In case the world ends?”

  “Calvin, this virus is bad. It’s coming in waves. Give it another month and warnings will be posted. One more month, it will be a daily battle. After then you’ll be looking for news of Bunker cities. While me… I’ll be watching a big wide-open sky.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Calvin, the outbreak started in North Korea. The short destructive war between North and South. wasn’t a war, it was self-destruction for preservation.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Martin lifted his eyes and scanned the room. “I like these people, I do. You… I have known you since you clerked here at eighteen. How old are you now? Forty-five.”

  I cleared my throat. “Thirty-four.”

  “Jesus, we must be bad for you. Fact remains, I want you to know. I want… you and Leah to come to Montana. Come out before the baby is born. Be settled. I discussed this with Margaret we have invited a select few. We want you there. You’ll have to drive out. It’ll be a three day drive.”

  “When?”

  “I think if you’re diligent, you’ll know when,” Martin said. “Bob Scott and his family are coming out. We’ll all be in touch. Just be there before the baby comes. Last thing you want is to have your wife give birth in a bunker city, or worse… in the middle of hell. Which this city will be if the virus takes over.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. I respected Martin and he was taking the outbreak, or whatever it was being called, very seriously. I listened to the news, I read articles, I was just as certain that it would pass. After thanking him for the offer, I told him, “We will be there if things go bad.”

  I meant what I said, even if I didn’t believe it. After all, humanity was diligent, we would beat whatever it was, we always did, without a need to run to the hills, without a need to fear that my child would be born “in the middle of hell.” Because I would never allow my son's birth to happen under those circumstances.

  Push

  September 2

  It was hard to fathom how I could ever be irritated by the fact my wife was giving birth. I thought she was brave, yet, she folded. Okay, I get it, the pain was unbearable. Still, why didn't her maternal instincts kick in? Protect the child, or did she lose that because she herself was close to death? Maybe she wanted to take the baby with her.

  Not me. For that moment, I worried about the safety of me and the baby. I knew, if we were just quiet, if there was no noise, the dead would
move on. Sure, they could sense us, smell us, but those weren't as strong of an attractor as noise.

  With every wave of contraction came another scream, until, she started to wear down. I saw it, and heard it in her voice. Her face grew paler. Instead of on her back, legs spread wide, Leah assumed a squatting positions, held tight to her legs and shook her head.

  “I can’t. It won’t come out.”

  “Yes. Yes you can.” I moved closer to her, trying to encourage, trying to hide my concern and anger. “Come on, Leah push. Now!”

  She grabbed tighter to her legs and grunted. One long, strong push and I saw the baby’s head.

  “It’s here. I see the baby.”

  Another push and the entire head emerged. The baby was turning, eyes closed. I didn’t know if he or she were dead or alive. Reaching out, I cupped my hand under the head and, bracing the neck with my fingers, I gently pulled.

  A splash of blood emerged just after the baby. It was a boy and half his body was in my hand, and his legs hit the ground. Leah collapsed to her side in exhaustion, making it difficult to maneuver the baby.

  He kicked, his mouth opened; he was perfect.

  He was hard to grip, his body covered in a cheesy-like substance.

  “We have a son, Leah.” I smiled, then the smile dropped.

  Leah wasn’t moving, not at all. I glanced down to the baby in my hands, the cord ran from his abdomen to her vagina.

  “Leah,” I called to her. “Leah.”

  She didn’t stir, in fact I couldn’t even see her breathing. That was when it hit me.

  What was I going to do? I never looked beyond the moment of birth. I never thought what I was going to do.

  As Martin once said, “The world was hell, and I just allowed a baby to be born into it.” What was wrong with me? What chance did my child have? The road ahead of us was long, my odds of survival were slim and his were even smaller.

  As I grabbed the small scissors to cut the cord, I looked down at him and really contemplated my decision. It would be easy to accomplish, simply wrap the cord around his neck, place him next to Leah and let them both go.