Ten

     The next five days at the Siegfried Manor were spent getting to know those who we now lived with and tossing back and forth our own speculations and theories as to why America had crumbled. Most had been pegged on government conspiracies, while others conjectured its connection to the transport of foreign viruses. I began to fear that the desire to pinpoint a cause would become an obsession among some of the younger ones in the house. I could see the intensity brewing in the brown eyes of Andrew almost every day. He was the one that I feared for the most. His temper was uncontainable.

            Today I had spent a majority of the morning staring out the window of my room. Brittany was downstairs with the others, and on occasion I could hear an excited cry from one of my own group as they battled in an intense game of Yahtzee. I had pushed back the long, sheer curtains that hung against the window. With arms folded, I looked out into the magnificent courtyard. The stone water fountain continued to bubble. Daniel had told me that it mimicked a well system, catching rainwater and transporting it through pipes underground to help cycle water through the house. The thought process that Lord Sigmund had put into the design of this mansion flabbergasted me and fueled my desire to one day meet the man.

            “Knock, knock,” a soft voice entered into the room.

            I turned my head to the left, my arm still propped under my chin as I stood. I smiled at the man who stood in my doorway, and he smiled back. “Hey,” I said softly.

            Daniel stepped into my room. He was so proper, keeping his distance and walking across the carpet as though �" despite having been given open permission �" he wasn’t supposed to be in there. Today he was wearing a white button down dress shirt. The fabric was thin. Not only could I see the wife beater he wore underneath, I could also see how clearly defined the muscles in his arms were. He wasn’t a large man, but was definitely fit. He was also wearing a light pair of jeans with a few frayed holes at the knee. I liked his style.

            “What has you so captivated?” he asked as he made it to the foot of the bed, a good three yards from where I stood.

            This time only one side of my mouth rose to a half-smile, mimicking a light smirk. I nodded my head in the direction of the far side of the courtyard. “Watch,” I said.

            Daniel stepped closer. He stood with his chest behind my back, but refused to touch me. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, my hair having been put up with a clip. The shorter pieces seemed to rise as he kept his body close to mine.

            What he was to look at was the interactions between James and the zombies that walked along the six feet high black steel galvanized fence that wrapped around the courtyard. There was no gate, the only entrance being the space between the two stone pillars along the road. But that hadn’t stopped the zombies from trying to get in. With their cognition completely obliterated, they hadn’t entertained the idea of getting into the courtyard from the most obvious way, but instead did all that they could to get through the fence, even if that meant dismembering themselves.

            One of the procedures of the house included a one hour watch rotation throughout the day. One man would stand on the porch or meander through the courtyard and parole the area for zombies. This hour had been given to James and the way that he handled these creatures fascinated me. What currently had me so enthralled was the female zombie that had spent the past five minutes trying to get through the evenly spaced bars of the fence. James hadn’t done much to acknowledge her. He had simply walked a few feet closer to where she had appeared along the right section of fence. James stood there, a black Ruger 10/20 resting in his arms as he just watched the woman.

            At first, the dead woman just started with the usual grunts and a few snaps of the jaw as she tried to bite her way through the reinforced bars of the metal fence. Her hair was short, blonde curls matted to her forehead and back of the neck. They were dull now and highlighted with dry mud and old blood. She was wearing mom jeans, so I pegged her as having been in her mid-thirties. Her red and pink sweater had several patches missing. It looked as though she had been attacked and turned from a tear to her upper chest.

            The woman soon abandoned the bars and instead went for just pressing herself between the bars. My stomach churned as she first pushed her head through. The bars were close enough that a living person would have had a difficult time getting past their cheekbones, but spacing didn’t seem to matter much to the zombie as she pushed her face through the bars to the point that while her skull kept going forward, her skin began to tear off her face. Exposed bone now composed most of her face, a patch of skin still attached around her nose and eyes. Then she kept going.

            With her head past the fence, the zombie then began to push her chest through. I watched with a scrunched nose as blood began to seep through the sleeves of her sweater as her arms became dislocated by the bars. Her jaw was clicking together as she went through them, her arms falling to the ground. The bones of the woman’s hips kept rubbing against the metal bars as she tugged. She looked like an upright snake, her body squirming back and forth in an attempt to satisfy her hunger. I could see her hips beginning to separate from her torso. That was when James pulled a knife from his belt, stepped forward, and brought the blade down through the top of the woman’s head. Her body went limp and James kicked it back through the fence so that she fell in a crumpled mess. The others who would keep watch would take out a zombie on sight, but James always played with them. It was disturbing.

            “Why does he do that to them?” I wondered out loud.

            I felt him release a sigh. “He has a dark past.”

            “What’s his story?” I asked, turning a little so that I could look at Daniel.

            “It’s not really mine to tell,” he said to me with a sad expression.

            “Well I doubt he would tell me,” I raised my brows.

            Daniel shuffled his feet. I could see the struggle flashing across his face. “James’ mother passed away when he was three-years-old,” Daniel finally said. “His father took to alcohol after that. It was an unfathomable addiction, more than just a struggle that most alcoholics deal with. I met James in the first grade. He is a year older than me, but his dad failed to get him enrolled on time, so he had to wait an additional year to start. I was the only kid in the first grade to share my toys with him. I was the only kid to sit with him at lunch, the only kid to invite him to their birthday party, the only kid to share my crayons. I was the only kid that didn’t ask him why he came to school everyday with a new bruise. The only one.”

            Daniel seemed to phase out for a moment, his words seemingly transporting him back into a memory. I looked back out the window at James who was cleaning his knife off with a piece of the woman’s sweater. Her skin stull hung from the bars of the fence.

            “James has always been quiet. Never spoke much to anyone about his past. His father beat him growing up, and when he turned sixteen, his father shot himself. James was in the room next door, heard the gunshot. My family took him in. We may be somewhat opposites, but we have been best friends for fifteen years,” Daniel concluded. “I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to have by my side during this apocalyptic occurrence. I trust him more than my own brother.”

            Their bond was admirable, but James’ past was daunting. It made a little more sense as to why he treated me the way that he did. Because of what he had gone through, he never felt sorry for anyone else or what their problems might have been, which I am assuming is why he cared very little about the rape and why the seventh of September was horrible for me in ways different than it was for him.

            “I wonder if they feel pain,” I murmured. “Are they so far gone that their hunger for flesh overpowers any pain?”

            “Perhaps that is their pain,” suggested Daniel. “A pain that consumes them. A pain that makes them mutilate themselves just for a possible fix.”

            We continued to stand there in silence for a few more minutes, just taking in the one or two stragglers that lined the fence. James took his time with them, studying them like a patient scholar.

            “C’mon,” ushered Daniel. “It’s Monday. Mondays we have our meetings.”

            “Meetings?” I wondered.

            “Every Monday morning, I meet with Lord Sigmund. We go over what’s been going on inside the house and what’s been going on outside of it. He gives me things to talk about with the others. Afterwards, I get the house together and we talk. It’s one of many remaining things in this life that can help to keep us sane,” explained the man.

            “You aren’t the man who broadcasted on the radio, are you?” I asked as Daniel began to walk away.

            “No,” he said. “That would be Lord Sigmund.”

            “Will I ever meet him?”

            “You might,” Daniel shrugged. “I know he’s taken an interest in you. He’s very ill, bedridden. Only three of us are permitted to see him.”

            “And they are?” I pressed, despite already having a good idea as to who they might be.

            “Other than me, his daughter, Kora, obviously. And the Reverend. The Lord is a very religious man.”

            “Why do you get to see him?” I asked.

            “James, Aaron, and I were the first ones to show up here. We were driving by, just beginning our cross-country voyage back to college, and as we got close to Queensbury there was a hoard of them blocking the road. We had to take a detour and ended up here. We helped Lord Sigmund and Kora board up all the windows on the first floor and began prepping this location to accommodate others. It was only supposed to be temporary, but I haven’t found a reason to leave.”

            Daniel gave me a smile, which I instantly returned. “Which college?” I asked.

            “Dartmouth, in Hanover, New Hampshire.”

            “Doesn’t college begin earlier than high schools?” I asked with a raised brow. “You don’t seem like the type to start school off late.”

            A huge grin washed across Daniel’s face. He chuckled a bit. “After my parents left for Israel, we kind of threw a big party…that lasted for a couple days.”

            “I’ve never been to a real party,” I said.

            “How old are you?” he asked.

            I hesitated in answering, knowing full well that Daniel was older than me. I liked him. I didn’t want him to be put off by the fact that I was still just a teenager.

            “Seventeen,” I muttered.

            “Ah, so you’re just a baby,” he mused.

            I didn’t like that. It made me scowl a bit. “How old are you?”

            “Twenty-one.”

            “Ah, so you’re an old fart,” I retorted. I knew it was lame.

            Daniel laughed. Then his voice softened. “I don’t care how old you are, Audrey. You carry yourself like that of a well-rounded woman. You have been through a lot. You may physically be only seventeen, but I would bet that mentally you are much older than I am. Now, let’s get to that meeting.”

            There was a feeling that began to swell in my chest that was so hard to contain. It was a feeling that I had read about in books and seen in movies, but never thought I would feel it myself. I really enjoyed Daniel’s company. There was so much about him that I found attractive, physically, mentally, and intellectually. He was smart, kind, funny, strong, and protective. He treated me like an adult and made me feel safe. These were things that only Brittany knew, as we had spent nearly every night falling asleep to each other’s voices go on and on about those we now lived with.

            Despite this only being their second Monday meeting, it seemed as though everyone had already fallen into routine with the process. By the time Daniel and I made it downstairs and into the living room area, several others were already waiting. I took a seat at the far end of the couch. Gracie, Aaron, and Miss Frizzle were already seated on the couch. I had finally met the school teacher a few days ago, and the boys were right, she was an exact replica of the quirky Scholastic school teacher with the magic school bus. She kept her orange curls atop her hair with an apple clip and today was wearing an alphabet dress with a white lacey collar. Her eyes were a hazel color with brown nearest the irises and green along the edges. She was on the quiet side, but a very warm woman. She appeared to be in her early to mid thirties. In just the first few minutes of speaking with her it was easy to tell that her love for teaching children was genuine.

            Brittany, Hannah, Brandon, Toner, Harry, and Cory were all seated on the floor around the glass coffee table where in the middle was a brown bowl full of cinnamon scented pinecones. Their game of Yahtzee had been abandoned, dice scattered everywhere. Slowly, the others began to trickle into the room. Daniel opened the front door and stuck his head out. “James, meeting,” he called out.

            It wasn’t long before the tall, dark man had jogged into the foyer. Daniel closed the door behind him and James began unloading all of his gear into the closet. He gave me a murky look as he passed through the living room and took a seat in the matching fabric chair to my left at the end of the coffee table. Daniel stood at the head of the room in front of the television.

            “Alright,” Daniel began. “You all know I’m not good at giving speeches, so I want to let our new people know that these types of meetings are completely interactive, so if at any time you want to jump in, please go ahead.”

            Daniel scanned the room as he took in everyone’s facial responses. His eyes settled on mine for a moment and I gave him a discreet smile. I saw his lips start to turn upward into a crooked smile, but he quickly brushed it away as he continued.

            “It’s been almost two weeks since the outbreak, and five days since we have seen any sign of non-infected beings nearby. We have to start considering the possibility of there not being a rescue and that there also might not be anyone out there. I know it’s a sucky thought, but we can’t look at this as a game. Schools may be closed, our work might not need us anymore, but at the end of the day, zombies don’t go home.”

            Daniel reached for a wicker basket that was next to the entertainment system. “So here’s what we are going to do,” he said. “I want your cell phones.”

            Had I not been taken back myself, I probably would have laughed at all the flabbergasted expressions that soon filled the room. Every individual looked up at the man as though he had two heads. I could tell that some of them were not pleased with his unusual demand.

            “You want what?” Cory huffed.

            “Your cell phones. I want all of them,” repeated Daniel.

            “Do we get to know why?” Becky asked.

            “We don’t know how long cell phone towers are going to stay intact, especially since the idea of keeping them maintained is probably the last thing on someone’s mind. It’s a wonder we still have basic electricity. Some cell phones are only active till a payment is past due, others can work off of satellites. But without electricity to charge them, there’s no point in keeping them. Now, in order to preserve the electricity once the power plants are completely inoperable, we will have to decide whether or not we want to go with diesel and gas-powered generators or solar power. Once the power grids crash, we are entirely on our own.”

            Daniel’s words were unnerving, but true. It seemed like every day there was a new question asked that made me wonder how we were going to survive it all.

            “Whatever decisions we make will include risk and arduous labor,” Daniel continued. “The core systems of those infrastructures have always been under supervision twenty-four-seven. Regardless of redundancy, there will always be issues that need to be addressed and maintenance that needs to be done. Although computers run most of it, human supervision is important and irreplaceable. And then we have the Internet, which runs off of a combination of satellites, servers, modems, and others things that I don’t know about. It works by having millions of computers, routers, switches, and networks interconnected; things which still need human maintenance. Smartphones will still have the ability to access GPS, and even the Russian equivalent �" GLONASS. Nevertheless, cellular service during any tragic event can last from two to three hours up to two weeks before the power fails in major cities where the cellular switching stations are.”

            “So…for dumbasses like me, what your saying is…we’re fucked,” Toner stated. Turning to the Reverend, he quietly added, “Sorry.”

            “Not exactly,” Daniel said. “All of us here can contribute in different ways that can make this work.”

            “Then what do you need our cell phones for?” Aaron wondered. I could tell that he was the most irked here.

            “To use up what electricity we have by charging numerous cell phones day after day just to be able to play games on them is a waste. We have to preserve what electricity we have by keeping lights off, watching fewer movies, and not using our phones for anything other than emergencies. With the Internet being shot, we can still use our phones to try to reach other people, but we have to limit those phone calls,” Daniel said. “So what I was thinking we could do is every other day, we can turn on the phones for one hour, check messages and make phone calls. It will preserve the battery life. Once they die, depending how much contact we have had with them before, we might not bother with charging them again.”

            “I don’t like this,” Ramona said, shaking her head.

            “It’s been almost two weeks. How many of us have spent days on our phones trying to contact friends and family members? And how many of us have actually been successful?” uttered Daniel. “I’m not saying that we need to give up hope. I’m only saying that if we are going to live here under one roof then we need to start acting like a unit and not as individuals, which means giving up luxuries for the benefit of others.”

            I was impressed by his ability to put words together. He had downplayed his speaking abilities, but I had found his speech to be quite impressive. He was very intelligent. Nevertheless, I knew that there were others who did not see it that way. As the others looked amongst themselves, hesitant to hand over their cell phones, James was the first to reach into his back pocket. I watched him pull out a large black Samsung smartphone and hold it out towards Daniel. He lowered the basket and James dropped his phone in.

            Daniel walked to the opposite end of the glass coffee table where others had brought in chairs from the dinning hall to sit in. Ramona rolled her eyes before begrudgingly dropping her cell phone into the basket. She then handed the basket to Becky, who did the same. Everyone who grabbed the basket dropped their phone in until it got to Aaron. He was cradling a white iPhone 8 in his hands like a baby and looked up at his brother with wide eyes.

            “I got up early and waited six hours in line to get this phone. I’ve had it for less than a month and haven’t been able to do anything with it. I’m not giving it up,” he stated.

            “Aaron, come on,” Daniel said to his younger brother. His voice was growing deeper, his stern tone starting to break through. “Everyone else is giving theirs up. It’s not like you can even do anything with is.”

            Aaron furrowed his brows. “I don’t care. I paid hundreds for it.”

            “Money has no value now, Aaron. You have never been the difficult one. Just give it up,” Daniel ordered.

            Aaron let out a loud huff of breath. He set his iPhone into the basket before dropping his head into his hands. He massaged his temple, eyes closed. Miss Frizzle and Gracie both put their phones in before handing me the basket. I looked inside at the cornucopia of phones. Some were big, some were small. There were smart phones and dumb ones. Verizon, AT&T, T-Mobile, Sprint, they were all there.

            “Well? You too good to give up your phone?” the unmistakable voice of James broke through.

            I looked up at him with a scowl. “I don’t have my phone. None of us do,” I stated before looking to Daniel. “They were taken from us. We never got them back.”

            “I understand,” Daniel said before reaching over the coffee table for the basket. He then looked across the room. “I know it was difficult, but there is a lot that we have already had to give up. I promise not to decline any of you when you ask to use your phone call.”

            The rest of the meeting wasn’t as intense. As we neared the end, the Quills triplets were to get with Daniel, James, Hector, Edvard, and Cory to go over poisonous and non-poisonous herbs, berries, flowers, and trees that could be harvested for meals. Gracie, Becky, and Ramona were only twenty-two-years-old, having recently graduated from the Culinary Institute of America in New York, but they acted so much older and could cook anything out of nothing.

            The rest of us didn’t have any other tasks to perform. We were free to spend the rest of the day doing what we wanted so long as it meant staying in doors and being quiet. Aaron was still quite upset about his phone and had excused himself before Daniel had dismissed everyone. That left the rest of us to enjoy the solitude that the living room brought.

            “If the Internet is down, does that mean that the television won’t work?” Harry wondered as he reached for the remote.

            He clicked on the power and we were immediately met with a channel full of static. White and black squares lit up the television and were accompanied with loud, high-pitched screeches. Harry flipped through the channels, each filling the living room with the same vision. Just when he was about to drop the remote in defeat, a flash of color broke through the static.

            “Wait! That channel worked! Go back!” Brandon cried.

            Harry clicked back one channel before letting the plastic remote fall onto the coffee table. It was a news channel, one I was sure that my parents had watched but I had never paid any attention to. There was a female reporter standing in the middle of a street wearing a purple suit. Around her were beautiful and elaborate white houses, lawns almost perfect despite the chaos that surrounded her. There was a barricade of wooden pallets and sand bags behind her, dividing the street where a few dozen police officers were attempting to hold back a horde of zombies.

            “Is she insane?” muttered Andrew.

            “Shhhhh!” hissed Toner. He scooted closer to the TV, so close I thought he was ready to kiss it.

            “The terror continues as several more of these unidentified creatures plague the states. The President has recently been evacuated from the country, leaving its citizens wondering what their next steps will be. Police have urged the uninfected to remain indoors and avoid contact with the sick. If your home is within a red zone, evacuation points have been set up in the south and the west. For those still in the north and east states…may God help your soul,” the woman ended softly. Her black spiral curls blew up in the wind. Her long dark fingers curled around the microphone.

            The reporter’s face suddenly twisted into one of horror. Her brown eyes widened and she let out a blood-curdling scream. “Lucas!”  she cried.

            Suddenly the camera fell to the ground, the world slightly slanted as the event played across the television screen. We could see the woman’s feet, her two-inch heeled black shoes staggering across the soiled street as three other sets of legs dragged themselves across the screen. Gunshots rang out and the police officers by the barricade spun around. Heavy breathing ensued. The camera was kicked. Slowly, a skeletal figure came into view. He was pulling himself across the ground, his body void of flesh and concocted of just his remains. He snapped his jaw towards the camera. I felt it hard to breath, as though the dead figure was staring right at me.

            The screen went black. Daniel was standing at the end of the coffee table, remote in hand. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the device, eyes scanning over all of us. I looked over the back of the couch to see Hector, Cory, Edvard, Gracie, Ramona, Becky, Kora, the Revered, and James standing by the archway into the dinning room. They were all standing there with mixed expressions of shock and emptiness.

            Daniel swallowed. He moved his arm and I could tell that he didn’t know what to do with the remote. He finally settled on taking it with him as he turned and pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers. One by one, the older group of adults disappeared back into the dinning hall. James was the last to turn. His daunting green eyes pierced mine. His arms were folded. He let them fall to his sides before turning. The rest of us were left alone in the living room, left alone with what we had seen and heard. May God help our souls.