Death Left Forgotten - 1. Chapter 1

I was not the last man on Earth—I snorted at the thought of calling myself a man—but I knew I couldn’t be the only one who didn’t drop dead. No bomb, no comet, no ravening hordes hungry for flesh… people just died. It was a wave of loss hitting with devastating finality that moved just slow enough as it swept the country that my dad, smart man that he was, had gotten us away to our remote camping cabin. I’d stayed there as long as possible after my parents died, but I was all alone with winter barreling down on the northern states.

Lack of food finally drove me out. Already skinny, my elbows and knees had grown knobby as I tried to ration our hoarded supplies so I could stay in the last place I’d had people who loved me. Where I could still see my mom standing by the propane stove heating up soup, or my dad sitting at the table tuning in the radio… back when I thought they knew what to do, and we’d all be okay. They weren’t happy memories; the strain on my parents had been clear in their nervous movements and the dark circles under their eyes.

Weeks later and the sound of my father’s voice and the feel of my mother’s hand smoothing my hair back had already faded, lost to the memories of the horrors I saw when I left that sanctuary. Bodies were everywhere, but the world still lived on… and that didn’t always turn out so well.

Maybe there were more survivors in the cities, but my parents had scared me early on with tales of crime and drugs for people who lived on the city streets. I was a small-town boy—but that did not mean I was a country boy. No, I didn’t have any kind of useful skills working animals or the land. I was lucky to know what a carrot really looked like when it wasn’t coming out of a bag at the supermarket. Living off the land wouldn’t work. But there was no way I wanted to fall prey to city folk. Who knew what they would do to me?

So I avoided cities. The roads were blocked in places unless I pushed dead people out of the driver seats of their cars to move them, so I constantly abandoned whatever vehicle I was driving until I could find a new one where I didn’t have to touch dead flesh that gave under my fingers. Driving was a harrowing experience when I’d only had a month of practice with my permit.

Everywhere I went, I looked for signs of other survivors, but I hadn’t found any. I’d only made it about three hundred miles from the cabin when my last car couldn’t make it past a tipped over semi. Home was still another hundred miles northeast, but I was beginning to rethink my stupidity. Would anyone still alive be there? My dad took us away from our home for a reason, but what else was I going to do? All I could think about was my old room with my blue comforter and video games, hot showers and clean clothes. Things that wouldn’t exist, couldn’t, in the world as it had become.

Having nothing to do but think was starting to crack my mind. I had to wonder if all this was real. How could it be? It was insane to think the whole world’s population had died in the span of a few weeks. If I focused on what I didn’t know, on the fear I’d never see another living soul, I’d start screaming and never stop.

So I didn’t.

I hitched up my backpack and kept walking. At least I had a direction. I struggled along a gravel road going up and down long, rolling hills. As the afternoon faded, it began to snow. The flakes came down heavier and heavier, so I started looking for shelter. From the top of one hill I saw the outline of buildings—a good-sized town—to my right. I left the road.

Not my best decision.

Those movies always made it seem like the zombies attacked in the dead of summer, or people only traveled on roads through desert wastelands. Maybe they were just smarter than me, because I’d gotten lost in a fucking snowstorm. My many layers of clothes were frozen solid, and I was using a sign I’d found bent over the hood of some car to prop me up as I hobbled along the street, following the dolls that were dotted here and there.

Stupid fucking ice. I hadn’t seen the pond before I crashed through the ice, wrenching my leg, drenching me from the waist down, and making my odds of surviving plummet as fast as the temperature was as the sun sunk over the horizon. I stopped to listen, but everything was just as still as it usually was.

I finally made it to the outskirts of town, but things had gone from disaster of epic proportions to… well… “I’m going to fucking die.” Maybe one of the buildings would have something I could burn, if I could get a fire started.

Then I saw the fence. It was made of actual fences, cars, broken bits. There was a hand, a little one, stuck between some razor wire. I couldn’t tell if it was real or fake, but I backed away. A warning to go away or come closer? I definitely didn’t want to meet whoever made that fence, but I had to find shelter. The alternative was probably my death. Dolls, creepy little figures lashed to fences and poles, led away from the fenced area. They all had their eyes open, watching me, one arm pointing away. They had to be staged.

I would’ve laughed at them before. Alone, with night falling and no idea if I was alone or not, they were creepy. Chills racked me as I followed the macabre trail. I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow where they led. But they were also the first signs of life I’d seen in forever. You know, I’d watched all those end of the world movies, read the books, laughed about how my lack of survival skills wouldn’t protect me from the ravening hordes… just a stupid fucking kid with nothing more to worry about than my next math test.

I went nearly a mile, zigzagging from cover to cover. My limp got worse with every step, until I was hobbling along only because I had the metal sign to prop me up, but I tried to keep to the shadows.

The last doll, a menacing little vampire with oddly chubby cheeks, pointed toward a metal door in a dilapidated building. I paused next to a car, crouching down so I could peek around the trunk. I watched the building for a minute, but my shivering was getting worse.

“Anyone there?” My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat so I could shout, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” I snorted. Menacing wasn’t even remotely close to how I’d describe myself, unless it was to someone’s sense of smell. Bathing wasn’t exactly a priority when it was freezing cold during the end of the world.

The wind whistled and metal scraped across metal with a high-pitched screech as a strip of corrugated roof crashed to the ground. I jumped and spun to look behind me, but no one was there. I cleared my throat to ease the constriction fear left in its wake. Every blank window could hide someone looking out at me. I turned around slowly. “Hello?” The door in the side of the building was open. I was pretty sure it wasn’t open before I turned around. My heart pounded in my chest, but my leg ached and my shaking had started to slow. Even I knew that was a bad sign.

My uneven steps crunched through the icy layer on top of the snow as I made my way to that open door. Who knew who I’d find on the other side? Maybe another survivor Mother Nature had forgotten to kill, just like me.

Maybe a person who’d take care of the world’s little mistake.

A whiff of smoke filtered by on the breeze. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I lost all caution, hobbling as fast as I could into the building—probably a factory at one time, but not for at least thirty years—and moved toward the barrel glowing orange in the middle of the empty concrete floor.

The heat sent painful prickles through my arms and legs, but I huddled as close to the barrel as I could get without touching it. I couldn’t even wrap my ankle, much less treat a burn that would probably become infected and kill me.

I peered around the room. There was no one visible, but after so long alone, I could sense someone was near like pressure against my skin. “I just want to share your fire,” I said. I considered the wisdom of my next action, but decided that if whoever built the blaze wanted to hurt or kill me, they’d do it anyway. Slipping my hand in my pocket, I pulled out a can.

“It’s just soup. Tomato. I’d kill for some grilled cheese to go with it, but I haven’t seen any bread or cheese that wasn’t covered in mold, or so stinky I wouldn’t touch it anyway.” I slowly lowered myself to the ground. There was a pile of cardboard not far away from a good-sized hole in the side of the barrel, just high enough that I could feel the warmth on my face. My right side was cold, but I could turn over when it got too cold. I put the can on its side and rolled it away from me.

Exhaustion won over my sense of caution as I slowly passed from the painful warming to the sleepy stage. I stretched out on the cardboard with my backpack as a pillow. I wished I could change my soggy pants, but I didn’t want to give the unknown watcher an eyeful. “I’m just going to get some sleep.” The fire was still going, though it’d died down some. “Thanks.”

Maybe I’d wake up. Maybe I wouldn’t. I couldn’t really bring myself to care anymore as sleep dragged me under.

Something scraped along the ground and woke me up. I jerked up, looking around wildly for whatever made the sound, but it was pitch dark inside the abandoned factory. Domesticated animals weren’t afraid of humans or fire, and they’d grown dangerous the longer they went without their owners feeding them. Pack mentality formed quick. The fire had burned down to nearly nothing, and I shivered. I needed to put something else in the barrel or it’d go out completely.

It was still dark, but I wasn’t quite as exhausted, so at least a few hours must have passed. It was hard to get up, but I eventually made it to my feet with the help of the sign I’d scavenged. A flashlight I tried to use sparingly gave me enough light to find a pile of wood scraps about twenty feet away.

Someone had definitely been here.

I ran my light over the wood and then around the area. I almost missed it, but then I jerked the beam of my flashlight back a few feet. “Holy shit!”

Black on black, someone was crouched inside the dark trenches running through the building. I couldn’t see inside the hood, or guess how big they were hiding down there. “W-who are you?” My voice shook. “Are you alive?”

Stupid. If they were dead they certainly weren’t going to answer me. But I’d heard something. I took a quick breath, my heart hammering. I hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long. “M-my name is Myles. I just wanted to get warm. Who are you?”

The person finally moved their head, looking up at me. I could barely see inside his hood, but I could tell it was a guy when he stood up. He looked tall. I stumbled back when he put his hands on the edge of the hole. I forgot about my ankle until pain shot through it, and I went down hard.

“Fucking shit!” I hissed. I scooted back toward the barrel. The light shivered as my hand shook. The guy stood up, and he was definitely taller than me. He reached up and pushed his hood back, but he just stared.

“Who are you?” I waited for him to answer. “Did you build the fire?” The creepy dude just kept staring at me. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

I backed up farther when he inched closer. He thrust one hand toward me and hummed urgently. “Mmmm.” I froze. The warmth at my back registered, and I realized that I’d nearly run into the barrel, still hot at the base. I scooted sideways.

Okay. So he didn’t want me to get hurt by the barrel. Maybe I wasn’t staring a killer in the face. “Um, thanks.” I squinted. “Can you hear me?”

He crouched and nodded. I studied his face. He wasn’t as gaunt as me—the town probably meant better supplies. He looked young, but he had brown stubble on his cheeks. So, older than me, but not too much.

“Can you talk?”

This time he shook his head no. Disappointment flooded me. I had found another person alive, after nearly a month and a half alone, and he couldn’t talk to me.

“Do you stay here? Is this your fire?” He nodded. “Why did you hide from me, man? That scared me.”

He shrugged and frowned. Reaching down into the dirt, he wrote something with his finger. I craned my neck so I could see and trained the flashlight over what he was doing. “B. E. N. You’re Ben?” I looked up at him and he nodded.

“Can I put some more wood on the fire, Ben?” I was starting to shiver again. I wanted to wrap up in the blanket fastened in a roll along the bottom of my backpack, but moving fast might be necessary if Ben wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

He held up a hand, waving it at me a few times. Then he stood up and walked over to the pile. Ben picked up several pieces of wood. He shuffled back toward the burn barrel, making a circle around me until he was on the other side. Instead of dropping them in, Ben carefully stuck the wood in the barrel. Sparks still shot upward, but not too many.

My ankle was throbbing, but I still got back to my feet, balancing on my good leg. If nothing else, I wanted to put my hands over the fire as the flames began to lick up the broken pieces of pallet. Ben grabbed a metal grate just off the other side and stuck it over half the barrel on his side. He reached into his hoodie and I stiffened, but all he pulled out was the can of soup I’d rolled across the floor earlier. He used a multi-tool from his pocket to put holes in it and then set it on the metal.

“Cool.” I’d been drinking it cold. “Can I do that too?” I reached for my backpack where I had a few more cans stashed.

He shook his head. What the hell? “Why not?” I demanded. Ben waved a hand at the can and then pointed to me. “You’re… warming it up for me?”

Ben nodded. He waved his hands around, but I didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Is that sign language? I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

I took his grimace for frustration. He paused, then touched his fingers to his mouth. Then he rubbed his stomach and shook his head. Ben raised his eyebrows and stared at me.

“Oh! You already ate and you’re not hungry.” I was slowly getting the hang of talking to Ben. He touched the can with the back of his fingers, then nudged it closer to me. “It’s done already?”

Ben smiled, and that’s when I truly saw him for the first time. The orange light of fire made his eyes and teeth gleam. It might have looked freaky, an imaginary demon sprung to life, but he’d helped me get warm and was feeding me.

Maybe I’d really fucking lucked out. I was too hungry to pass up the warm soup, and even though I wanted to savor it, it was gone way too fast. I tilted my head back and shook it over my mouth to get the last few drops. I licked my lips. “That was the first warm meal I’ve had in weeks.” Starting fires really wasn’t my strong suit, even if everything wasn’t soaking wet or covered in snow.

I shifted and hissed when I put too much weight on my twisted ankle. “I need to sit back down.” I didn’t wait for Ben to say—gesture—anything before I eased down beside my pack. He came around the barrel, and I stiffened until he sat cross-legged a few feet away, out of even his arm’s reach.

The flashlight was on the ground next to me, so I stuffed it back in my backpack. I fiddled with the straps. “Can I ask you some questions?”

He shrugged and then nodded. It wasn’t like he could ask me questions.

“Are you alone here?”

Waggling a finger around, Ben indicated the building and nodded.

“Just here? Are there people in town?” That fence haunted my mind.

He shook his head and then nodded. I frowned. “Are there or aren’t there?” Maybe he’d made it and then did the trail of dolls. I tried to work up fear, but either I was too exhausted or Ben really didn’t give me any bad vibes.

An elaborate pantomime later, I still didn’t get it. He huffed and growled. “So you can make noise. But you can’t speak to me?”

Ben’s hands clenched into fists. His nostrils flared. Okay. Bad vibes. I inched back, clenching my hand on my backpack strap, ready to jump up and run out of there as fast as I could hobble. Ben shook his head, and let a long breath out through his nose. He held up one hand and gestured for me to stay again.

I couldn’t see what he was doing as he moved away from the circle of light the fire cast, but I could hear his footsteps. There was a scraping sound, some rustling, and then he came back holding a notebook and pen.

“Oh duh! Why didn’t I think of that?” I had some paper and drawing pencils with me. I relaxed, inching nearer the warm barrel to relish the heat radiating off it. Ben scribbled away on the notebook and then held it out to me.

“Should I read it out loud?” I asked.

He shrugged.

“Okay. Let’s see.” His handwriting was neatly printed, so it was easy to read, at least. “Um, okay. I can’t talk to people. It’s called selective mutism. My voice locks up in my throat, and I can’t, even if I want to.” I looked up. “So, that’s why you’ve made noises but can’t say anything?”

Ben nodded, fiddling with the strings to his hoodie.

“I’m alone here, but there are other kids in town. Teenagers around our ages. Everyone young or old died.”

That was something I didn’t know. “How old are you?”

One finger was followed by seven. “Seventeen. I’m fifteen. They’re mid-teens, then? Why are you alone here if there are other survivors?”

I handed over the notebook when he wiggled his fingers. His hand sped across the page, a fierce frown on his face as he wrote. I shifted and winced. My jeans were still damp, and my ass was getting sore sitting on the hard concrete. My ankle was swollen and throbbing. At least my stomach was full, and I wasn’t shivering alone in an abandoned car as the light ebbed until I was surrounded by resounding darkness. Ben might not be able to talk to me, but I could hear him breathing and his pen as it slid on the page. I wasn’t alone.

“They don’t like me. I stay out of their territory as much as I can, and they don’t beat me up and take my stuff,” I read. “Wait. Beat you up? And their territory? Have they gone Lord of the Flies?”

Ben raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side.

“I read it in school. Bunch of kids run wild after they’re stuck on an island without adults. It was sort of scary to read actually. Of course, that was before the world ended. Fuck, we’re basically living it now, anyway.”

Not even the shadows could hide the dark outline of the bruise on Ben’s ribs when he lifted his shirt. He pointed out the bruise, then turned and showed me a few cuts on his back and another bruise.

“Jesus Christ.” That looked like it had to hurt. Ben dropped his shirt. “Why do you stay here?”

He shrugged. He put the tips of his fingers his mouth and mimed chewing.

“Easy to find food. Did you grow up here?”

Ben waved his hand in the air, tilting it back and forth. So, he knew the area but hadn’t been here his whole life. I was starting to get the hang of talking to him and understanding his gestures in reply.

“I grew up northeast of here. My parents took me to our cabin, but they….” I couldn’t actually say it. Just getting out the words to say good-bye when I left the cabin had choked me until I could hardly breathe. My throat ached and my eyes burned, but I took a deep breath and pushed it away. “Well, I’m heading back to our house. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

Ben’s face was very expressive. He reached out with his foot and nudged mine. Unfortunately, he hit the leg that had fallen through the ice covering the small pond.

“Ow, fuck!” A sharp pain shot through the outside of my ankle and then it throbbed with every heartbeat.

His apology came through loud and clear when Ben winced and smacked his forehead. He patted his heart and then made a circle over his chest a couple of times. “It’s fine. I need to tear up a shirt or something to wrap it, but I’ve been afraid to take my boot off in case I can’t get it back on. I can’t walk in the snow without my boots. My toes would freeze off and then I’d really be screwed.”

Ben snagged the edge of his notebook and wrote something quickly. He turned the notebook so I could see the page.

“Do you want to stay here?” Ben tilted his head again, watching me as I read his words.

“Here?” I looked around. “No bed. You don’t go sleep in a house or anything?”

He shook his head, but he pointed off into a dark corner of the room. Maybe he had a mattress in the corner. “So, you stay here, but you don’t sleep by the fire?”

Yanking his hood over his head, Ben hunched down like I first saw him. He stayed that way for a minute, then unfolded and took his hood down, looking all over.

“It’s safer to hide just in case the other kids are looking for you?” But the dolls had led me right to his hiding spot. Clearly the others in town knew where he was. It probably wasn’t safe here, but I didn’t want to leave.

Ben grunted and shrugged one shoulder.

“I have some more soup I can share if you let me stay here.” He’d made an offer to help me, so it was the least I could do to repay him. “When I can walk again in a day or two, I’ll help you get a stockpile or something before I leave.” I tried to keep it cool, but Ben’s talk of other kids and the obvious bruises and cuts had me concerned about staying here for very long. Going back to the loneliness of my journey scared me even more, but maybe if we spent some time together I could convince him to leave with me.

Ben stared at me, and I stared back. I could see the same agony I felt in him, that soul-searing wound from losing everyone and everything that made sense. I now knew for sure there were other survivors, but who knew how they’d reacted to this insanity? How they’d react to a stranger showing up? Ben had helped me get warm, heated up food for me. He could’ve hurt me while I was sleeping, but he didn’t.

Death had raped my world, stealing the lives of everyone I knew. I still didn’t know how or why. Maybe no one did, and we’d never find out. Maybe we were the forgotten few that death had yet to claim, but if I had to try and survive in this fucked up new world, I would need help. Going it alone might actually kill me.

It was sickening to hope that Ben was as lonely as I was, but if he was, if I could convince him to leave this place, he might be the one thing that kept me from slipping into despair. “You can teach me sign language in case you can’t ever talk to me. I won’t get mad. I just don’t want to do this anymore.” I rubbed my chest. “I don’t want to be alone.”

When I looked up Ben’s hand was mirroring mine, pressed hard against his chest. His breathing was ragged. His eyes shone in the firelight, and his lips were pressed tight together. I held my breath until Ben nodded hard, just once, like he really meant it. I let out an explosive sigh of relief.

“Thank fucking God.” I snorted at the irony, but Ben laughed. He actually laughed.