small town girl

(Source: laughingatmynightmare)

[18:21 Day 910]

     ”We can’t keep this up much longer.”
     Mac stopped sharpening his knife and looked at her. “So what do you suggest we do? You want to move base?”
     ”No, we can’t risk it,” Maddy paused, gnawing her lip, then continued quickly, “but we’re running out of resources fast.”
     ”Hey, cut out that thinking kid. Jones will be back soon.”
      ”And what if he’s not? It’s been three days, Mac. One of us should’ve gone with him. We have no way of knowing if something happened, if something went wrong.”
     ”And if one of us had gone? Then we’d be down two men and there’d be one of us left alone to fend for ourselves. Like I said, cut out that thinking, it doesn’t do any goo-“
     Suddenly there was a bang on the door. Then another. Another, and frantic shouting.
     ”That sounds like old Jones,” Mac said, standing up.
     Then came up a swell of moans.
     Mac and Maddy looked at each other, one word exchanged but not spoken: infecteds.
     Mac stuck his knife in his belt holster and grabbed his shotgun. Maddy picked up her crossbow and crouched behind the counter.
     ”Covered.” At her signal, Mac opened the door. Outside were a dozen or so infecteds, advancing with their jerky motions to swarm the old man, who had been forced to the ground and was scrambling backwards.
     ”Jones!” Mac grabbed the old man by the collar of his trench coat and yanked him in. “Get him in the basement!”
     Mac got a few shots off, falling two infecteds as Maddy ran towards the door. She slung her crossbow over her shoulder, helped Mr. Jones up, and supported him as he limped to the back of the room. Mac took down a few more infecteds before slamming and bolting the door. Maddy had opened the cellar door and began leading Jones down. Mac scooped up the supplies they had brought upstairs, which wasn’t much – a canteen, an unopened can of beans, and Maddy’s worn out copy of “Lord of the Flies” – and followed them down, pulling the door shut behind him and bolting it.
     Mac lit two candles while Maddy got Jones some water. Old Jones was coughing and had his left hand pressed hard under his right arm. In the flickering light they could see his boots were caked with mud and the pilot’s goggles on his forehead were spattered with blood.
     Mac squatted down across from him. “What happened, Jones?”
     ”Infecteds - lots of ‘em.” Jones coughed again, phlegm audible in his throat.
     ”What’s wrong with your hand?”
     ”Nothing.”
     Mac raised his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Seriously, Jones, lemme see it.”
     Jones glared at Mac. “Kid, I know when there’s something wrong with my hand. You don’t need to see it.
     ”Fine.” Mac stood up, raising his hands, palms open, in the air. “Whatever you say, Jones.” He crossed the room. “What’s for dinner, Mads?”
     Maddy picked up a can of beans. “Beans again. I can play around with some soup if you want.”
     ”Whatever, food is food. What I wouldn’t give for a hamburger though…”
     Maddy sighed. It had been two years too long since any of them had eaten any real meat. She picked up the coffee pot that had been soaking, swirled it, and started ascending the stairs.
     ”Where you going?”
     ”To water the plant, Mac, what’d ya think?”
     ”Well take the crossbow with you.”
     Maddy came back, picked it up, and went upstairs. She pulled the chain around her neck and the key to the back room emerged from her collar. She didn’t so much as blink as she opened the door and was met by the wave of odor, dirt comingled with manure, but simply stepped in and quickly sprinkled the water across the small garden. Light was still coming in from the sky lights, but it was tinted blood red by the fast-approaching dusk. She plucked a few ripe peapods one her way out, locked the door, and returned to the basement.
     She set to work pouring the can of beans into the coffeepot and then went to rummage for some Dr. Pepper. When she returned she found Mac sitting on the table where she’d been working.
     ”Glad you found use for that crap,” he said, swinging his feet and sticking his tongue out.
     ”Glad you don’t drink it, I need the 23 flavors to give some taste to the crap we eat,” Maddy retorted, dumping half the can into the pot. “Hey Jones, get me a cup or so of reclaimed water?”
     ”Just a sec, little lady. Gotta finish reclaiming some water myself.”
     Maddy cringed. “I’m sorry I asked,” she mumbled, hearing him finish up and turn on the hotpad they used as part of their makeshift water-purifier. He brought her a pot of the reclaimed water, which she thanked him for before pouring about a cup’s worth into their dinner, and then held it out to Mac. “Pour it in the jug.”
     ”You could say ‘please’,” Mac pointed out, taking the pot and bringing it over to their water-stores. “Remember when the reclaimed water grossed you out? She was a piece of work back then, wasn’t she, Jones?”
     The old man laughed, but his chortles turned quickly into coughs. When his throat cleared he said, “She certainly was. And shitting in a can!” He fell into another fir of laughter and coughs. “Let alone raking it out. But wasn’t I right? It was always my wife’s, godresthersoul, secret to the best damn carrots this side of Nebraska.”
     Maddy shook her head. “There were a lot of things I never imagined my life would come to.” She gave the soup a final swirl and then put it back on the machine. She flipped the switch, but the light didn’t turn on. “Damn,” she breathed. “Batteries please?”
     ”Got ‘em,” Mac called, tossing her a pack.
     ”Thanks, Mac.” She put fresh batteries in the coffee machine and set the soup back on to heat.
     ”Remember when I first suggested we set up base here? Mads really got her bloomers in a bunch on that one.”
     Mac laughed. “She was all concerned about the shop owner… What was his name? Michael something?”
     ”Alvin Michaels.” Maddy looked down at the peas in her hands. A few minutes later the pot began to bubble and she dropped the peas in. “Just about ready, boys, grab your cups.”
     Jones and Mac came over with their oversized mugs, filled them up, and sat down to dinner. Afterwards they splashed some reclaimed water into their mugs and sloshed it around before dumping it in the coffee pot, as was their usual dishwashing method. Jones continued his ritual and retired to his beat-up armchair. Mac took the full coffeepot and swirled it, then put it on the shelf to soak. Maddy walked over to her corner and pulled out her pocket mirror. She held it up, tenderly touching the pale skin of her once-full cheek where every bone and dip was now defined. She saw Mac over her shoulder as she pushed her scraggly hair back.
     ”God, I’ve changed so much.”
     ”We all have,” Mac replied. “The whole world has changed.”
     Maddy turned to face him. “What do you think happened with Jones today?”
     ”Can’t say for sure,” Mac said with a shrug. “My guess is the infecteds spooked him. I tried to get a look at his hand while he was eating, and it looked like he had a pretty bad gash. I’ll wait ‘til morning to get the details. We need to get facts, not reaction. Better to let him sleep on it.”
     ”I don’t know, Mac. We need to find out how he got that cut. We can’t risk what happened to Chuck happening again. It we wait it might be too late.”
     ”Come on, Mads, Jones wouldn’t be that dumb. If he got cut by an infected, he’d tell us.”
     ”If you say so.”
     Maddy retrieved her book and then curled up in the bean bag she kept in her corner. As she flipped through to find her page, Mac, who had wandered to the other side of the room, called out, “Hey, I’m gonna blow these out. Got a flash?”
     ”Yeah, got it.” Maddy pulled a Mag-Lite out of her calf-high boots and went back to her book. Mac returned and ascended the reclaimed army bunk bed along the wall.
     ”You aren’t done with that yet?”
     ”I’m rereading.”
     ”Again.”
     Maddy looked up at him. “I don’t have that many books to read.”
     Mac chuckled over the rail. “Tell you what. If things ever go back to normal I’ll find you a conch.”
     ”Thanks Mac. Man it’s been a long day.” Maddy turned off her flash and within minutes the room had fallen into a deep, seemingly peaceful silence.

[2:36 Day 911]

     Jones had been coughing on and off all night, but not this bad; this fit was the first one to wake either of his companions. Mac groaned and dropped out of bed, fishing his flash out of his cargo pants as he walked across the room.
     ”Want some water, Jones?” Mac shined the light on the old man’s face. Staring back at him were two wide, bloodshot eyes seeming to protrude from the shriveled, pallid skin of the surrounding face. Coughing and hacking with his eyes open in a blank stare, this creature was hardly recognizable as their friend and advisor.
     ”Jesus Christ!” Mac drew his knife and slashed the exposed neck and stabbed at the chest. Blood squirted in his face and eyes and he recoiled. Jones flailed about, seizing, and one of his hands swung for Mac’s head. His nails, lengthened by his receding skin, cut Mac along the jaw. Mac cried out, pulled his revolver and fired, burying the bullet in Jones’s face.
     ”What happened?” Maddy ran over towards the noise, but Mac had dropped his light so all she could see were his feet.
     ”You have to shoot me, Maddy,” Mac said, panting.
     ”What?”
     ”I’m infected. I got blood in my eyes and Jones got my neck. I don’t have the long hours he did, only two, maybe three before I’ll turn.” Mac picked up his flash and showed her the bloody, distorted mess that used to be Jones. Then he looked her in the eyes. “Please, Maddy. Don’t let me suffer like that.” He held out the revolver to her. “It has one shot left. I’ll help you move the body, but then you gotta do this. For me.”
     They dragged Jones’s body up to the roof and Mac tossed it off. Then he stood on the edge, looking over. “You’ll be ok, kid.” He turned and faced Maddy. “You’re gonna be ok.” He took off his jacket and boots, emptied his pockets, and left everything in a pile at her feet before returning to the edge. She held up the gun and took aim. She held it there for a long moment that threatened to drift into eternity.
     ”I can’t do it, Mac,” she said, dropping her arm. “I can’t kill you.”
     ”Maddy, I don’t want to die an infected.” His eyes pleaded with hers before he turned to look out at the starry horizon. “Don’t even think of it as me. In a few hours I won’t even be me anymore.”
     Maddy raised the gun again. Just before pulling the trigger she caught sight of the M&M tattoo on the back of his shoulder and was suddenly conscious of the matching one she bore. It was a lingering memory from years past, faded and cloudy. That was a lifetime ago, she told herself. That life is gone, that world is gone, and now Mac is gone too.
     Her eyes filled with tears, she pulled the trigger, and he fell.
     Maddy walked over to the edge of the roof. Shining her light down she saw that it had been a clean headshot; at least he hadn’t felt a thing. Below him she saw Jones, and what was left of the rest of the group. Chuck, Leah, Bruce, and Sonny – this was their resting place, their haunted, unhallowed burial ground. Infected had picked them clean, but better them than the living. Maddy dropped the revolver onto the pile and walked away.
     She retrieved Mac’s effects and returned to the basement. She was alone now, but that meant the provisions would last at least another six months. Six months, holed up in the basement of Mr. Michaels’s Hardware, hoping to survive. She pulled out the dusty radio they had long since given up on. She began scanning the stations, sending out distress calls, waiting for her rescue ships to sail across the horizon.

—

questions:
- is the middle section effective in revealing character, or does it just bog the story down?
- (related) do you feel enough of a connection to/between mac and maddy for the ending to have an emotional effect?
- how can i improve the “fight scene” between mac and jones? it’s not the sort of action i’m used to writing and i’m looking to improve.
- do you like the ambiguity of the ending? do you think maddy will be saved?
- any other thoughts, observations, or suggestions for improving clarity/general effect?

[18:21, Day 910]

     “We can’t keep this up much longer.”

     Mac stopped sharpening his knife and looked at her. “So what do you suggest we do? You want to move base?”

     “No, we can’t risk it,” Maddy paused, gnawing her lip, then continued quickly, “but we’re running out of resources fast.”

     “Hey, cut out that thinking kid. Jones will be back soon.”

     “And what if he’s not? It’s been three days, Mac. One of us should’ve gone with him. We have no way of knowing if something happened, if something went wrong.”

     “And if one of us had gone? Then we’d be down two men and there’d be one of us left alone to fend for ourselves. Like I said, cut out that thinking, it doesn’t do any goo-“

     Suddenly there was a bang on the door. Then another. Another, and frantic shouting.

     “That sounds like old Jones,” Mac said, standing up.

     Then came up a swell of moans.

     Mac and Maddy looked at each other, one word exchanged but not spoken: infecteds.

—

Just an opening. I’ve got more written, but it’s not quite finished yet and I want to clean the rest up before posting. Any thoughts, comments, critiques, suggestions?