My Dead World 3 Read online

  He needed us all, just like we needed him.

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  “Do you think Grandma Lisa has a bottle of whiskey in heaven?” Katie asked Lev. “I wonder if she does.”

  Her comment made me cringe and laugh over dinner. A meal that was good for the soul as well as the belly. They had fun at my expense telling Lev how bad they felt for him eating my cooking for the past three days.

  He actually joked and said he didn’t notice because he couldn’t keep it down.

  But that moment was a rouse. A smoke screen to cover the inevitable.

  “It’s time,” Ben told me. “We can’t. He knows it. I know it. It’s taking everything he has to keep his head up. As much as we want it, he’s not coming back from this.”

  I hated to hear it, but I knew the words to be true.

  It killed me to see Lev so sick.

  He was ready. I had to be.

  There were no drawn out goodbyes as we went to the porch. It was like it always was, them saying good night before he and I took our evening spot.

  There was one difference. Katie hugged him and told him she loved him.

  We closed the door behind us and sat down on the porch step. I had to help Lev because his balance was off.

  My hands shook so bad as I held the syringe. It brought back painful memories of my father and of Addy. Lev had been there for me when Addy died. He did what I couldn’t, giving her peace in her final stages. I had to be able to do that for him.

  “Here.” His hand lay over mine. “I’ll do it.”

  “No. No. I’ll do it,” I told him. “I want to. Not that, you know, I want to but…”

  “I get it.”

  I took a deep breath through my nostrils. “It’ll be fast, Lev, you know that, right? Are you ready for this?”

  “No, I’m not. But I don’t want to go any further. The last thing I want is to turn. So please. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He rolled up his sleeve.

  Shaking, I brought the syringe to him and stopped. I placed my hand on his face and kissed him. “I love you. You know that right.”

  His facial muscles tightened and he nodded. “I do. I love you, too.”

  I couldn’t look. I allowed for my fingers to feel his fevered flesh, and while looking at him, I injected the needle. His eyes closed when I plunged the medication into him.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Don’t be.” His shoulders heaved back in a breath, then he scooted from me. I wondered for a moment what he was doing, until he leaned sideways, placing his head on my lap. “Thank you for this, Nila. Thank you for everything.”

  “No, Lev, thank you.”

  He was tired and sick and I think…I think he was done. He was finished. His arms gripped my legs like a pillow as my hand rested on his head.

  I felt like I should have been talking, telling him things, sharing stories, but I couldn’t talk. Every time I tried to speak, my throat closed up. I choked on my emotions.

  My mind said it, I thought.

  I love you Lev, so much. You have been there for me my entire life. Nothing will ever fill this void. Nothing. This is unfair. So unfair.

  For decades I had known him and loved him and now he was leaving me.

  Every thought I had caused another tear to fall down my face. As my fingers ran through his hair, I tried to hide the sluggish sniffles that built, tried to stop the tears. It was impossible.

  I couldn’t say when he left me, but he did. When his grip on my legs released, I imagined he’d fallen asleep.

  Sometime during the course of the night, probably not long after we sat on the porch, Lev passed away.

  I didn’t acknowledge it until morning when Ben came out. I was still holding him, not wanting to move.

  I didn’t want to let go. I couldn’t let go.

  It was Lev. The moment he and Fleck lifted him from my lap, the pain punched a hole in my heart. I was gutted emotionally. I had to turn away when they carried him. I couldn’t see his lifeless body.

  It was hard enough to breathe, let alone move. And I didn’t. I stayed on our porch until I could try to process it.

  But processing the loss of Lev was something I would never be able to do.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  HOME

  July 12

  It was the first warm day of the summer. It had only been a couple weeks since Lev had died and I was nowhere near myself. I wouldn’t be for a while. Katie was sad, but she handled it like I thought she would. With a strength that I envied.

  At the onset of the outbreak, when we had retreated to the cabin, we buried my husband in a spot behind the shed. That area grew into a cemetery. My husband, daughter, father, stepmother, brother. It was insane how many people I loved were there. How many people I loved who had died from the virus. I hated the virus. We all did. What started as one grave, turned into many. I never would have believed it. Each grave had a white cross made by Lev. A year earlier, during the turmoil when we briefly lost the cabin to that gang, they desecrated it.

  It had been the first order of business when we returned from Cobb Corner. Lev fixed that cemetery.

  It was only fitting that he not only be buried there but was given a cross as well.

  We buried him next to his father, creating another row. I hoped we’d never have to put another person there.

  Then again, I’d had that hope before.

  It was hard to look at the cemetery. Occasionally I would glance at it, walk by, feeling the thump in my chest and flip of my stomach. Hating the loss and wishing for the sadness to just go away. Katie visited it daily and had conversations. She showed Lev her drawings. For the time being I avoided it. If I didn’t look, it wasn’t real.

  Every day I would walk out to the front and watch the gate, almost as if waiting for Lev to show up.

  Deep in thought, standing at my spot in the driveway staring out, I jumped a little when Ben’s hand tapped my shoulder.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  “It’s okay. Just thinking.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing. Trying…you know. It’s tough.”

  “Oh, I know. I have been there. So…” Ben said with an exhale. “Fleck talk to you about going hunting?”

  “Hunting? No.” I shook my head.

  “He wants to go out in an hour.”

  “Little late in the day for good hunting. Wait. Animals or infected?”

  “Deaders. Saw a whole group by the Costco. I think it might be good for you to go.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I am,” Ben said. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “Then I must follow.” I folded my arms.

  “Nila, you are a strong woman. Probably stronger than you realize. Lev knew that. He’s counting on you to be okay, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. And I will be.”

  “I know you will.” He gave a squeeze to my shoulder. “I’ll tell Fleck.”

  I nodded and after he walked away, I thought about what he said. How Lev was counting on me to be okay. It was an odd phrasing of words, considering I had counted on Lev for everything, especially after the outbreak.

  Lev left this earth believing I was strong enough to carry on. I was. I just had to get there. I would and could because I had my daughter and my friends. I had so much reason.

  I would take it one day at a time, one step at a time, and I was at the best place possible to do so: the cabin.

  We were where Lev wanted us to be.

  We were home.

  About the Author

  Jacqueline Druga is a native of Pittsburgh, PA. Her works include genres of all types but she favors post-apocalypse and apocalypse writing.

  For updates on new releases you can find the author on:

  Facebook: @jacquelinedruga

  Twitter: @gojake

  www.jacquelinedruga.com

  My Dead World 3