Ending Chapter 9: in the forest Cont...

....It only ate until it was full.”

“What does that mean?” Chris asked.

“That they’re changing kid. They’re evolving to something smarter. It stopped when it was full.” Jerrid repeated.

Gregory and Jerrid chuckled.

“Well, we can take care of this later, let me take you to the other one. It’s more… normal.” Gregory started towards the car.

Chris quickly leaned in to snap a picture of the empty ribcage as his camera was focusing, that’s when he noticed a spotty, half-circle imprint on the bottom of the ribcage. A human bite mark, he thought. He snapped a picture of that just as Jerrid was calling after him.

When they got back into the cramped quarters of the truck, Chris mentioned the teeth marks and Jerrid explained to him that that’s normal; they’ve seen that a lot when the infected gets carried away while feeding.

They made it back out to the main path that Chris was familiar with and Gregory continued up towards the farm. He took a right through the trees again. Chris assumed they had already passed the farm at this point. Gregory drove the truck as smoothly as he could while dodging trees and bouncing over broken tree-limbs. Chris couldn't help but contemplate how often the truck’s suspension had to be tuned.

“We’re just about there, it’s just over—“

“Stop.” Jerrid yelled.

Gregory hit the brakes and the truck slid through some of the underbrush. Chris was thankful he had his lap belt on.

“What the hell?” Gregory put the truck in park and glared at jerrid.

Jerrid pointed to the trees in the distance. Chris followed his finger but couldn’t see anything. He skimmed the trees with his eyes, looking for another animal corpse. Then he saw it.

About thirty feet away, there was a man in his late twenties. He had long, dark, dirty hair; his jeans were worn out like an old potato sack and his navy t-shirt was barely being held together by the threads. He was standing, but his whole body--including his face were rested against the tree. Chris couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or just heavy. His tongue was hanging out the side of his face, lapping something off the bark at the pace of a small child eating an ice cream cone. His hand was pressed against the tree at stomach height to keep him steady.

“Well, that’s new.” Jerrid commented.

Gregory grabbed the binoculars hanging from a hook behind him.

Chris knew that in any other city in the US, this would probably be just some kid high on methamphetamines, come to the forest to ‘connect with nature’. Here in Forest Hills, it was the infection coursing through his veins.

“He’s licking blood off the tree,” Gregory concluded. “That’s where the wolf is.

”Was,” Jerrid added.

“What?” Gregory asked

“Well, if this guy is licking the blood off a tree, he’s probably finished off the wolf.”

Chris found his voice: “How did blood get on the tree?”

“Could have been anything. He could have been violent with the animal, which got the blood there, or it could be his own.”

“What do we do?” Chris asked. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be around an infected. He assumed it was because he was in a truck with two rifles and two large men who knew how to use them.

“Just wait a minute.”

Jerrid slowly pulled his rifle up from between his legs. He had to swing it over Chris’ leg briefly to get it above the dash. Chris flinched a little. He rolled down the window and maneuvered the barrel of the truck and rested it on the side mirror. Just as he was taking aim, the infected jerked his body towards them, sniffing the air. He was alert and aware of their presence.

“Quick,” Gregory shouted from behind the binoculars “He smelled us when you rolled down the window.”

“I got it. I got it.” Jerrid yelled.

The infected started bounding towards them in large lengths and Chris was becoming more nervous with each leap until he was shaken by a thunderous bang and the infected didn’t get back up again.

“See kid, that’s how you do it.” Jerrid said proudly. He brought the gun back inside; Gregory put the truck in drive and continued on through the trees until they got to the newly deceased.

Once again they were out of the truck gaping at something dead on the ground. The infected’s head was mostly missing and only held together by the flesh on his left temple. like a dog, it’s tongue was hanging out of what was left of his face. Chris took out his camera and tried to take picture of anything but its missing face. He took pictures of the fingernails that hand been bent back; partially ripped off, along with shots of the skin that was so deteriorated and diseased; it looked like it was melting off of hiss hands and arms. While Jerrid and Gregory were talking about what to do with the body, Chris took some more pictures of the infected’s bare feet. They were cut up from running around in the forest. He remembered Katrina saying something about their amazing tolerance for pain.

“What do you normally do with the bodies?” Chris asked.

“Burn them, but that was when we had more than two per week.” Gregory leaned down by the dead man. “Look at this: his wallet.” He reached in his front pocket to pull it out and opened it up revealing a Kentucky driver’s license. “He’s from Winchester.”

“Where’s that?” Chris asked.

“Up by Lexington.”

“What’s he doing all the way over here?” Jerrid leaned down to join Gregory. Chris snapped pictures of Gregory holding the open wallet, with the ID showing through a plastic screen.

“That’s a good question, my friend. And how did he get down here?”

“Well, keep the wallet, but we gotta start looking for some dry brush to cover him with,” Jerrid got up and started looking around. “Is there any bus tickets or anything in it?”

“No, just forty bucks.” Gregory got to his feet and tucked the money into his front pocket. “Come on kid, start searching.”

Chapter 8: Going to Stumps

8.

Dusk was starting to press on forest hills; the setting sun was playing off the buildings and trees, creating supernatural shadows. Chris commented on the eerie feeling that the pursuing darkness was giving him and Katrina laughed.

They reached Stumps in less than five minutes and were greeted at the door by a heavyset man testing the strength of a stool he was perched on. He opened the door when he saw Katrina approaching. She smiled and nodded in thanks before she walked through. Chris continued behind her but felt a hand press against his chest before he made it over the threshold.

“Identification.” The man said without looking at him, or removing his hand.

“Oh, yeah sure,” Chris pulled out his wallet and obliged the man.

“I knew you weren’t from around here,” He said, handing the card back to Chris. He waved Chris in. Chris realized the bouncer was profiling him instead of checking the legality of his attendance at the bar.

Once inside, Chris could see that the bar was named appropriately; to the left of the entrance--past the restroom--was a long burl-wood bar extending the entirety of the room. The bar stools were made out of tree stumps, this was the same for the tables, however, they were at least three feet in diameter. The inside of the building was made to look like a log cabin complete with heads of various animals and an old stove converted into a freezer for ice. On the far wall there was a hundred inch TV projecting the scene of a lake out a cabin window with jet skiers and boats passing through.

There were hardly any patrons in the bar, and the only two servers were chatting outside the kitchen; neither of them paying attention to the newcomers. Katrina didn’t know anyone in there so she lead the way over to the pool tables. After she put her purse down on top of a tall table in the corner--also carved out of a tall, skinny tree stump—she asked Chris: “You play?” Nodding towards the table.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can give a good rally.”

“Good. Will you rack ‘em?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What do you want from the bar?”

“Just a beer, whatever’s on tap,” Chris grabbed some quarters out of his pocket to insert into the table and was happy to see the tables didn’t cost anything; they were real billiard tables.

Katrina came back and set their drinks next to her purse.

“Thanks,” Chris sipped enough beer out of the glass to keep it from spilling. “You wanna break?”

“No, you go ahead.” She unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes and lit one.

Chris sunk two solids and moved onto his next shot. He lined up the shot with his cue before he bent over to take it.

Katrina took notice to his broad shoulders and lean back muscles. She was thinking of how long it had been since she had any mutual contact with a man. She shook the thought out of her head, taking a drag on her cigarette and closing her eyes. She heard the crack of the balls hitting, followed by the sound of a ball being pocketed. She exhaled, feeling the roughness of the smoke leaving her chest and throat. She opened her eyes.

“I sunk a high ball, it’s your go.” Chris smiled and passed the pool cue to her. She assessed her best shot and continued with the cigarette still hanging out of her mouth; the smoke making her squint.

Chris took notice and asked: “Why do you smoke anyways?”

She missed and passed the cue back to Chris. “It keeps me relaxed. Despite what you may think, I actually hate it but I get nervous and jittery sometimes for no reason. This keeps me calm and relaxed when that happens.”

“Do I make you jittery and nervous?” Chris asked coyly.

Katrina rolled her eyes.

As Chris was about to shoot the eight ball for the win, he saw Jerrid and Gregory walk through the bar door. Jerrid was showered and clean, but still looked un-done and tired. He glanced around scoping out the scene when his eyes rested on Chris and Katrina. He smirked at Chris and said something to Gregory that made them both laugh. They started to walk over and Chris missed his shot, sinking the white ball and losing by default.

The two men walked over to stand beside Katrina. “Aw, kid did we make you nervous?” Gregory laughed and Katrina hit them both on the chest. They seemed about as bothered as if a housefly bumped into them.

Gregory was just as big as Jerrid, but his build was more muscular. They both could have been brothers by the way they looked the same. Gregory had darker hair and lighter eyes and let his beard grow long on purpose, where Jerrid’s was just days of overgrowth.

“No way. I just miss-judged my shot.”

“Uh-Huh.”

“He’s actually quite good, he kicked my ass there for awhile.” Katrina vouched for him.

“Well, that’s not hard to do.” Gregory nudged her.

Jerrid cleared his throat, “Anyways, Greg this is that kid I told you about that you almost shot in the forest.”

“Oh, yeah. You were right: he does look like he could be infected; the frightened little look he has on his face.” Jerrid laughed, the cigarette smoke coming out his nose.

“Ok, you guys stop it. Why can’t you just play nice? He’s with me, he’s staying with Mama and I and we like him. Get over it.” Katrina took a step towards Chris and put her arm around his waist to show she was on his side. Chris was pleasantly surprised and wrapped his arm around her small shoulders.

A waitress in a green flannel-printed T-shirt and small brown shorts walked over to them. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and her make-up looked like it was put on last night before she went to bed. Chris imagined she was in her thirties, but looked about forty-five. He assumed it was from the habits one could obtain living in a small town and working in a bar.

“Hey Jerrid, I was hoping you’d come in tonight.”

“She doesn’t look like she was hoping to see anyone tonight,” Chris whispered to Katrina. She almost spit the drink out through her nose making the waitress glare at her. ...

Chapters are getting longer. We're still in 6.

.......“That’s precisely what it is chicken.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“Sure. Are you going to use this in your story?”

“Yes, probably.”

Mama stared at him for a moment. “Don’t journalists usually have a notepad or something?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Chris got up feeling his face turn red and ran into his bedroom to grab the moleskin out of his backpack. He grabbed a pen off the desk on his way out.

Katrina was becoming more comfortable with Chris and what he was trying to accomplish in Forest Hills. In the beginning she wanted to avoid talking about things that happened to other people; now she just sat back in her chair to listen to Mama tell her story. Katrina had never heard the details of this encounter, only the need to know facts from her parents.

Once Chris was settled and Mama felt his pen was perched high enough she began: “ I assume you know that I once had neighbors.” Chris nodded. “ Well, one night I was home just reading or baking, or was I painting? No, I was definitely reading.” She swatted the air in front of her face as if to shoo an invisible fly. “Anyways, I heard some commotion in the stairwell so I looked through the peephole to get a better look and it was Jane, my neighbor. She was screaming and chicken, the look on her face...She was terrified. She was being chased. She banged on my door—because it’s the closest from the stairwell—I opened it without taking the chain off and saw that her hands were covered in blood, she had scratches all over her neck and shoulders.” Mama stopped for a moment. It looked like she was going to start to cry, but she was only collecting her thoughts. “I couldn’t let her in, the poor baby, I just couldn’t—for my own safety. I told her ‘I’m sorry baby. Please forgive me. God bless.’ And I shut the door. I moved the vanity in front of the door and made my way towards the emergency roof escape. I heard her scream all the way to her apartment down the hall while running footsteps followed her.”

Chris jotted down random points of Mama’s story that he thought would be crucial to putting the story back together on paper. He didn’t ask any questions because he just wanted to listen to Mama. She had such a soothing voice and manner. It went straight to the heart and filled your whole body as if you were being wrapped in a down comforter from the inside. Without wanting the soup to go cold, everyone took random bites in between pauses in the story.

“She managed to get into her apartment and shut out the infected. But she was now infected and she turned almost immediately after she entered the apartment. I heard a commotion next door followed by one gunshot, then another and another for three in total. She attacked her two children before her husband could make it into the living room with the gun. I think that’s the day that Jerrid lost a part of his soul with his family, but he had no choice. It’s all about self-preservation.”

“You mean Jerrid was your next-door neighbor?”

“Yes chicken. He was such a good kid until that day but after that he became a man. He made it his mission to rid Forest Hills of the infected ones killing all of our loved ones. Don’t get me wrong; he is still a wonderful person, but it’s deep down inside him and only bits of sunshine glimmer out of his eyes sometimes.”

“They didn’t want you? I mean they couldn’t smell you or something?” Chris asked.

“Oh, they probably could have, but once they hone in on their ‘prey’ its pretty much tunnel vision. Besides, Jerrid killed anyo—anything that was in that corridor.”

“And no one has been back in that apartment since?”

“No.” Mama shook her head and took a small bite of bread. “Jerrid removed the bodies and cleaned the place out. No one’s been back but I’m sure in a few months or years I will have neighbors again.”

“So, how do you know that people weren’t murdering other people out of cold blood and saying that they were infected?”

Katrina who had been impartial to the conversation raised her eyebrows at Mama. This question impressed her in a sense. No one had thought to ask that—out loud at least.

“Well, I suppose that would have been possible for the ones that were infected by only a scratch or so. I guess you just have to have faith in the people that you share a town with. I would never think that anyone in Forest Hills would do something like that.”

Chris nodded in satisfaction.

“Well…” Katrina smacked her legs and stood up, pushing the chair out with her calves. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yes, you children go and I’ll take care of these dishes!” Mama exclaimed.

“Are you sure? I can help clean—“ Chris was brought up to always offer a hand in the home he was visiting.

“Go, go gooo.” Mama shooed them out the door, barely giving Katrina a chance to grab her purse off the kitchen counter. Luckily Chris was already holding onto his notebook.

Chapter 6 continued.

.....

Beside the article was a picture of Katrina’s father—cigar in mouth—with a caption underneath that read: “Forest Hills Logging tycoon is new father to twins”.

How come Katrina never mentioned that Emily was her sister? She told me that she was her cousin. Chris could hear the lock of Mama’s apartment starting to turn. He quickly folded up the paper and slipped it back into the secret spot he found it.

“What are you looking at?” Mama asked. Katrina was standing behind her unmoved by what was going on.

“Oh, um I was just looking at this photo album I found. I hope that’s Okay. There’s some really good photos in here!”

Mama took the book out of Chris’ hands and placed it back above the fireplace. “You really shouldn’t go snooping through people’s belongings chicken.”

“I’m sorry, I was looking at the nice framed pictures here and saw the album.”

Chris glanced over at Katrina was oblivious to Mama’s tone of voice and reaction to the album. Chris knew then that there was some sort of secret being kept about Katrina and Emily being sisters.

“That’s Okay honey. I made some chicken noodle soup and more bread this morning. I’ll get us some. I won’t be but five minutes.”

“More bread? And soup? You’re a busy lady Mama.”

“It keeps my hands fresh and mind busy”. She chuckled and skipped into the kitchen. Katrina and Chris moved to the table and sat down.

“How was your uncle’s?” Chris asked to be polite.

“It was good thank you. My uncle had already left for work when I got there. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Chris wanted to ask why it took her so long if her uncle wasn’t even home, but thought it was none of his business.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Katrina eyes were searching his.

“Well, I drove into the forest, and I found this old farm.” Chris pulled his camera out of his pocket. “I was going to ask you about it.” Before he turned the camera on Katrina replied:

“It belongs to the Dr. It was an inheritance from his uncle. No one goes there. It’s pretty much become abandoned. But the property is huge. It goes from the house all the way to the road that we came in on.”

“I could see that it was abandoned but what’s with the electric fence?”

“Oh, well Mister Stevensen was an old crazy man apparently. RIGHT MAMA?”

“Huh?” Mama popped her head around the corner.

“Mister Stevensen. You knew him didn’t you?”

“Well yes Trinket, he’s the town Doctor.”

“No Mama, his uncle.”

“Oh yeah, he was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Kept mostly to himself in that cabin on the edge of town.” Mama disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh. So does the Doctor do anything with it?” Chris asked Katrina.

“Oh, I don’t think so. He said that he doesn’t want to tear it down because it was a part of his family, but it’s too old to sell now and since no one in the town goes that way—not even Jerrid—no one’s bothered by it’s being there.”

“Is that the only farm in the area?”

“On that side of town yes, there’s a few more to the west of the town.”

“What’s that round building beside the cabin? It looks like a grain silo, but it seems too short and stubby.” Chris clicked through some of the pictures while Katrina looked on curiously.

Katrina laughed. “Depends who you ask. As kids we thought that’s where mister Stevensen hid little children, the grown-ups thought it was converted into a shelter that went below ground incase the apocalypse came. He was always going on about that to people in town. Scared us kids half to death. It was probably just nothing but an old chicken coop or something.” Katrina looked back at the pictures.

“What happened to him? Old mister Stevensen?”

Katrina leaned back into the chair. “He was one of the first to go through the infection. The forest was the favorite place for the infected so his house was the obvious choice. Jerrid and Gregory used to stay close to there until the infected some how figured that out and stayed farther away.”

“Oh yeah, I saw them today on my way out of the forest.”

“They saw you?” Katrina was looking at him with hard eyes, but a relaxed face. Some pieces of hair around her face had made their way out of her ponytail and she kept batting them away with her fingers.

Chris nodded to confirm that he saw them and they saw him.

“Oh, they’re not going to be happy with you: snooping around in their forest.”

Mama came around the corner carrying a tray with three soups, a basket of bread, butter and three lemonades garnished with a lemon slice and mint sprigs. “Oh baby, were you in the forest today?” She said as if he was a four year old who got into the cookie jar.

“Um, yes. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. There were tire tracks and everything.”

“No one goes in the forest anymore. No one’s allowed to go in; it’s Jerrid and Gregory’s territory—at least until the infection is completely wiped out.” Mama set a bowl in front of each of them.

“Okay, I won’t go in again. I don’t need to be eaten up by any zombies. Knowing my luck, there’d probably be only one zombie left and I’d be its meal; starting the cycle all over again.”

“Don’t say that!” Mama exclaimed. “You’re too skinny for any Zombie.” She winked at Chris and they started on their meals.

“Okay.” Chris laughed. “But after lunch will you take me to the Doctor’s office?” Chris directed his question towards Katrina. “I really need to start interrogating some people.”

Katrina had a mouth full of food so she nodded and looked at Mama for a reaction but Mama was contently eating her food trying to stay out of their business.

“Mama?” Chris asked. “I noticed these markings on the railings downstairs. They look like human fingernail marks—as if someone was trying to hang on.” He got that example from watching too many paranormal shows and horror movies.

Without looking up from her soup, Mama replied, “That’s precisely what it is chicken.”