Classic Notes from the Edge

Posted by Geo 12-16-23

It
is Saturday once more. From several inches of snow just a couple of days
ago, so bad that the cats were afraid to go out, to rain from yesterday into today and
60-degree weather and climbing. Wow. Watch out for flooding next. Or
sunburn, or both.

I
am working on writing here, as always, and enjoying doing it. In
between I am dealing with all the things we all have to deal with
because we live in this world, some of the good stuff , some of the
bad stuff we get from living in this world. Lately, and I mean the
last few weeks, for me it has been more dealing with things, people,
situations that I didn’t create. And that irritates me to no end.
That is why my circle is so small.

I
live a live and let live lifestyle. Whatever you are doing over there
is fine with me with a few exceptions. If I see you doing something
that is hurting someone else I will step to you and point that out.
Likewise if you try to shove things down my throat I don’t agree with
I will speak up. No other rules, no subsection C or A, or appendix B.
Simplistic. Live your life and let me live mine. The rub is that
there are people in the world that don’t want other people to live
their own lives. They want you to live your life the way they want
you to live it. Do your best to ignore people like that. They are
lacking something inside themselves that makes them do that. I’m not
going to say more than that, but that is the reason I can count my
friends on one finger.

I
remember hearing so often as a kid that if you don’t have a solution
then shut up. You are just wasting space, time, etcetera. But the
problem with that analogy is that it assumes there needs to be a
solution when many times there doesn’t need to be. You just need to
leave the person alone and let them live their life. They already
have a solution and their solution is for you to shut up and leave
them be. Let them live their life. So what if what you predicted
would happen happens. So what, that’s how we learn. It’s how you
learned. Too bad if you only mean it in a good way. If it is rejected
and you don’t stop it becomes forced. How is that a good thing? It
really is simple if you look at it. Live your life, let the other
person live their life. I think the world could be that better place
we all want if we could just practice that. So maybe this holiday
season you could put that little game play into the mix. Step back,
let people live, realize that is the same thing you want really, and
the world could be a better place, not to sound too cliche’.

Free
Book Links:

The
Zombie Plagues Book One:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/357698

Genesis
Earth: Book One

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/477565

I
am going to leave you with a free look at a book. So if you want
the book, like what you read, you can click the link and go get it.

The
Zombie Plagues: Book One

Copyright
2010 – 2014 independAntwriters, Geo Dell, Wendell Sweet. All rights
reserved.

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excerpt is copyrighted material. As so it is protected under U.S and
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any form other than what it was intended for.

THE
ZOMBIE PLAGUES

March
15th

Early
morning darkness held the road that fronted the cave. The moonlight,
sparse, reflected off the rapids of the Black river.

A
shadow moved by one of the pickup trucks. Another moved by the
Suburban. The sound of sand gritting beneath the sole of a shoe came
clearly in the shadowy darkness. The door of the pickup squealed
loudly as it was carefully opened. The shadow paused, looking towards
the Suburban. The shadow there appeared to be fighting with the door
to no avail. The shadow next to the pickup gestured quickly with both
hands, and the shadow next to the Suburban gave up on the door,
crossed to the pickup and quickly climbed inside. Once they were both
inside, silence returned to the small patch of asphalt that fronted
the cave. A few seconds later the pickup roared to life. The
headlights snapped on, the wheels turned hard left and the driver
launched the truck down what was left of the shattered roadway.

Voices
were raised in alarm from inside the cave, and within just a few
moments everyone inside was outside. Lydia, gun in hand, unloaded a
full clip at the fleeing pickup truck. Both Tom and Mike snapped off
a single shot, more in startled response to Lydia’s’ shots than
with any real hope of hitting the retreating pickup truck.

“Jesus,”
Lydia said breathlessly. “They stole our truck!” She turned and
looked at Mike with wide, frightened eyes. “They stole our Goddamn
truck,” She repeated. “How could they steal our truck?”

Tom
headed for the suburban and pulled the keys from his pocket,
preparing to unlock the door.

“Tom,”
Mike called. “Where are you going, Man?”

“That’s
our Goddamn truck. I’m going to get it.” His eyes were wild, the
truck keys in one hand, a pistol in the other, no shirt, sock-less
shoes, laces trailing.

“It’s
an old truck, Man,” Mike said.

“It’s
my
old truck,” Tom said defensively. “And if I catch that fucker…”

“Fuckers,”
Lydia said.

“Huh?”
Tom asked.

“Fuckers,
as in I saw two heads. Two of them. Not one,” Lydia said. Her voice
held a breathless, excited quality to it that Mike didn’t like. She
was dressed in jeans and a thin T-shirt. She shivered slightly,
whether from the cold or the excitement, Mike couldn’t tell.

“Either
way. One, two, how would we catch them? And then what? Are we going
to shoot somebody for stealing an old truck? Is that what things have
come to?” Mike asked.

“Look,
don’t get moral on me,” Tom said. He leveled his eyes at Mike. “I
do things my way. You take from me, you pay for it.”

Mike
just stared back at him.

“You’re
soft,” Tom said. But his fists, still clenched, dropped from the
truck door and he walked away from the Suburban and back into the
cave.

Lydia
threw Mike a nasty look, finally managed to fish a replacement clip
from her overly tight front pocket. Ejected the empty one into her
hand and slid the new one into the pistol with a solid click. “Soft,”
She echoed as the clip clicked home. She turned and went back inside
the cave. In the distance, the muffler of the truck began to fade. It
was hard to tell which direction it had gone.

Bob
stepped up beside Mike where he stood with Candace and Jan. “I’m
not going to kill anybody over an old truck,” he said.

“Me
either” the other three said in near unison.

“Guess
we better start making sure everything’s locked up tight,” Mike
said.

“We’re
going to have to start keeping a watch,” Jan said.

“We
will,” Candace agreed. “What if the next thing they want is a
woman?”

“That’s
not funny,” Mike said.

She
leveled her dark eyes on his, silvery moonlight reflecting from them.
“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Now that they know we’re around…”
she shrugged. “Lydia may have overreacted, but maybe not. Who the
hell would pull a stunt like that anyway? Everything’s just lying
around. Want a truck? Go get one. No… It’s a mind set. Someone
who takes like that doesn’t take because it’s easy; they take
because they like it, because they can.” She lowered her voice,
“Truck, woman… might all be the same to them.”

No
one answered.

~

Tom
and Lydia sat talking in low tones as the others walked back into the
cave. They had rebuilt the fire, and the warmth and light spread out,
glowing on the stone walls. “Tom,” Mike started.

“Listen,”
Tom said. “I shouldn’t have said that… I didn’t mean to say
that. And, no, it would be stupid to go chasing after a goddamn truck
in the middle of the night. And, no, I don’t want to kill someone
over stealing a piece of shit truck,” Tom said. “But that kind of
shit can’t happen. I mean, what’s next?”

“Yeah,”
Mike agreed. “Yeah. I guess what’s next is locked up trucks. No
keys left in them. And…” He looked over at Candace. “I guess a
guard at night. Candace said… She thinks someone who would come to
take a truck might come to take a woman too.”

The
silence held only for a second.

“Fuckin’
A,” Lydia spat.

She
looks positively rabid, Candace thought. “What I mean,” Candace
said, “A truck… Maybe one of us… Who steals a truck when
everything’s just laying around free to anyone who wants to pick it
up?”

Tom
nodded his head.

“Well,
as soon as it’s light I say we follow the tracks. If we’re
careful, it should be no problem at all,” Mike said.

“Goddamn
right,” Lydia said.

“Should
be armed. I’m sure they will be,” Candace said.

“Not
you. You’re not going are you?” Mike asked.

“I’m
the best shot we have,” Candace said. “It’s that simple. If we
don’t go after them,” she shrugged and then shook her head. “No,”
she said. “The more I think about it, they’ll probably come back.
And they’ll probably come back armed also. Hell, maybe they were
this time.” She looked at Lydia.

“Lydia
saw two in the truck, but how many more were there? Or back where
ever they went to,” she finished seriously.

“So.
The idea is to take it to them before they bring it to us?” Bob
asked.

“Got
a better idea?” Tom challenged.

“No…
No… But I’m no killer. It’s still just a damn truck.”

Bob
finished.

“Yeah,
tonight it was a truck, tomorrow it might be me… Or Candace… Or
Jan,” Lydia said.

Bob
stayed silent, thoughtful. He sighed. “What a damn mess,” he said
at last.

“It’s
that,” Tom agreed.

“I
got to agree, Bob,” Mike said. “It’s not the same world. What
if they do come back? Do we decide then to do something? It might be
too late.”

“Honey.
I think it’s best to go get them,” Janet said quietly, her eyes
on Bob’s own. Those eyes looked frightened, Mike thought. He supposed
a little of that fright was resting in everyone’s eyes right now.

“I
don’t like to be bullied or pressured into anything,” Bob said.

“Hey,”
Mike said. “It’s no pressure, Man. It’s real. It really just
happened.”

Bob
nodded his head yes, but a frown remained stamped onto his mouth.
Deep lines scarred his forehead. His hands twisted restlessly in his
lap. He suddenly brought his hands together firmly. “Okay,” he
agreed. “Okay. I see the point. I’ve done a lot of hunting. I’m
a good shot with a rifle. I’d like to go too.”

~

When
the sun began to peek over the top of the ridge on the opposite shore
of the Black river, everyone filed out to the two remaining trucks.
It had been decided that Mike and Jan would stay behind while the
others went in search of the stolen truck. They switched on and
tested two sets of F.M. radios.

“The
range is normally only about two miles or so, but it’s not like
there’s anything to interfere with them anymore,” Tom said.
“We’ll take three with us, and you keep the other here to monitor
us, or if they come back here,” Tom finished.

“Do
you think that’s a possibility?” Janet Dove asked.

“I
doubt it, Dear,” Bob told her with a reassuring smile. “It’s
just to be safe.”

Mike
walked over to Candace. Her eyes met his. He kissed her softly, and
her arms slipped around him.

“Don’t
worry,” she whispered, “I’ll be careful. And I’ll make sure
they’re careful.” She kissed him and pulled back.

Mike
stared at the face of the two way radio for a long second and then
watched her get into the Suburban. Bob got into the front seat with
her. Her eyes met his once more, and she smiled reassuringly, then
started the Suburban and fell in behind Tom as he drove the big State
truck out across the pavement.

Mike
and Janet stood quietly as the two trucks drove away. Neither of them
wanted to go back inside the cave. The sun was up and warming the old
asphalt of the road where it passed in front of the cave, and what
little snow remained was already beginning to melt.

“Left
here,” The radio squawked. It sounded like Lydia.

“Behind
you,” came an answer that sounded like Bob.

Mike
shifted the 30-30 Deer rifle he held in one hand and thumbed off the
strap that held his Nine Millimeter in his web holster. Janet Dove
grimaced and then thumbed the safety off the shotgun she was holding.
A short clip protruded from the base of the shotgun, just forward of
the trigger. She had two more clips in a small pouch on her side, as
well as a fully loaded Three Eighty in a tooled leather side holster
she wore.

What
must we look like,
Mike thought. Aloud he said, “They’ll be fine.”

“Really?”
Janet Dove asked. “I truly hope so. I truly do.”

~

The
next twenty minutes went by slowly. Occasional squawks of directions
came from the radio, and in the distance the sound of both trucks
could still be heard. The silence broke all at once.

The
radio squealed in Mike’s hand. One word jumped clearly from the
static… “Jesus!”…
Mike couldn’t tell from whom. A crashing sound accompanied it, and
in the far distance gunfire erupted in the still, previously quiet
morning air.

The
squeal from the radio abruptly cut off and it fell back to low
static. In the distance the sound of gunfire continued for what
seemed like ten minutes, but was probably no more than thirty or
forty seconds in reality. Mike keyed the radio, ”Candace,”
he screamed. “Candace?”

Gunfire
broke out again in the distance. The fast… POP,
POP, POP
of semi automatic gunfire, but the sharp crack of a heavy rifle too.
No answer came back over the radio. Janet Dove made a small strangled
sound in the back of her throat and a low sob slipped from her mouth.
“No, God, no,” she whispered.

“It’s
alright, Jan,” Mike told her. He didn’t believe it himself, but
it was what you said. It was how you lied to yourself when you were
pretty sure that things were far from fine. Life didn’t work that
way in his experience. The gunfire had stopped, but the radio
maintained its teasing static as his mind continued to assure him
that nothing at all was right and nothing ever would be again. Just
as he had the thought, the radio in his hand squawked once again.

“You
guys okay?”
a panicked sounding Bob asked.

“We’re
good… We’re good, base. We’re all good. Everything’s okay,”
Tom answered.

Beside
Mike, Janet broke into a sob. He reached over and pulled her close to
him. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “They said they’re all okay,”
Mike repeated dumbly, like the words were some magic mantra.

“I
need you to come over here,”
Bob said over the radio in a tight, controlled voice. Fear quickly
spiked in Mike’s heart.

“Yeah…
Uh, you need… Uh, yeah… Okay… We’re coming… We’re on the
way,”
Tom replied.

Mike
pressed his button down. “What is it?” he asked. He spoke with
more calm than he felt. “What’s going on?”

“Mike…
Mike, we got a little problem here… Give me a second and I’ll get
right back to you,”
Tom told him.

“Standing
by.” Mike forced himself to say. Now Janet was hugging him and the
fear gripped his heart hard, refusing to let go.

~

“I’ll
kill you. I will,” The kid said. He held his gun sideways like some
banger kid from a bad Hollywood movie. Blood trickled slowly from one
nostril, as well as from several deep cuts up the left side of his
face. His eyes were focused and hard.

“No,”
Candace said quietly. Her own forty five was held in both hands aimed
at the kid’s chest. He looks like he’s only about thirteen…
Fourteen, she corrected.

The
kids lip curled at her. “You
think I won’t do it, Bitch? I will… I will, Bitch… I’ll do
it.”

“No,”
Candace repeated quietly. “I drop it and you shoot anyway. No way,
Kid. No way.” She watched as Bob shifted to his right, drawing
farther away from Candace so the kid couldn’t keep both of them in
sight.

“Stop
fuckin’ movin’! Stop fuckin’ movin’!”
the kid suddenly screamed. The gun barrel wavered a little, nervously
jittering up and down, the kid’s finger lightly, compulsively
caressing the trigger as Candace watched.

Tom
and Lydia worked their way up silently behind the kid, past the
bodies that lay on the ground, one a young girl.

Behind
Tom, Lydia dropped the barrel of her gun and sighted

on
the kid’s back. Tom stared at her dumbly for a second and then
followed suit.

The
seconds played out as the blood continued to slowly leak from the
kids face. His tongue darted out and tasted it where it ran from his
nose. He tried to push it away from his lips where it ran and dripped
down onto his chin.

“Last
chance, Bitch,“
he said. He brought the barrel of his gun down towards her. At the
same time Bob took another step sideways. The kid’s eyes darted to
Bob. The gun dipped and swiveled towards him. “I
told you…”
he began.

All
four guns spoke at once and the kid seemed to do a quick tap dance
before the gun fell from his hand without firing. He tried to suck in
a breath but collapsed onto the dirty asphalt instead.

Before
anyone could react, the silence was split by a scream from across the
river. A young boy stood silhouetted by the rising sun on the
opposite side of the river facing them. Something shifted from his
side. “I’ll
kill you… I’ll kill you… You killed my brother,”
the boy screamed in a high falsetto. His arms came up quickly.

“Hit
the ground,”
Candace yelled as the kid opened fire with the deer rifle he had in
his hands.

Everyone
hit the dirt except Lydia whose face registered astonishment as she
turned slowly to the river to face the kid.

Candace
yelled again as she raised herself to both cut and bruised elbows and
began to fire back across the river.

The
kid managed three shots before Candace hit him. He slowly toppled
over and splashed into the river. Lydia stood. Her mouth open wide,
staring across the river to where the kid had been.

Candace
raised her eyes to where Lydia stood, and they caught on the ragged,
gaping hole blown through the back of her t-shirt. She continued to
stand. Seeming to still be looking out over the river. Her mouth
working.

“Lydia,”
Candace whispered.

Lydia
slowly turned, her mouth still working but silent. A small neat hole
wept blood down the front of her shirt. Her chest hitched and her
eyes fluttered.

Tom
lunged to his feet, his eyes dazed, and ran to her, catching her as
she slumped forward. Her eyes flickered once more as he eased her to
the ground.

A
small tight smile came to her mouth. “Killed
me,”
she wheezed. Her eyes closed, and her chest stopped its struggle for
breath.

~

The
silence seemed to go on forever as Mike and Janet waited. Sudden
gunfire erupted in the distance again. Janet moaned and Mike pulled
her closer to him. “Ssss
alright,”
Mike told her. ”Alright.”
He didn’t believe it any more than he had the last time he’d said
it. The burst of gunfire came and went just that quickly, and then
silence fell hard on the still morning air.

Janet
held herself rigidly. Mike could feel her tremble against him. He
patted her head. A stupid, useless, meaningless thing to do, he told
himself, but he continued nonetheless, patting her head and stroking
her hair. Useless, but if nothing else, it seemed
to help calm him.

He
drew a deep breath, and the radio squawked. “Mike?” Bob asked.

Mike
took a deep breath and swallowed hard before he trusted his voice to
answer. Jan let go of her breath in a deep whoosh and drew in a long,
deep shuddering breath. Mike stroked her hair once more.

“Yeah,”
Mike answered quietly.

“It’s
bad,” Bobs voice broke as he spoke. “It’s bad, Mike. It’s
bad.”

In
his head Mike was already hearing the words he didn’t want to hear.
He had heard everyone’s voice except Candace’s. It only stood to
reason… Still, he didn’t want to hear it.

“It’ll
be okay,” Jan told him. She pulled him tight. Her own hands trying
to pull his head against her breast. “Mike… It’ll be okay.”

“It’s
Lydia,” Bob said. His voice choked with emotion.

“Candace?”
Mike asked. He hated himself for asking. He hated the weakness in his
voice. How could it be Lydia, he asked himself. I just heard her
voice. How could it be?

“I’m
here, Babe,” Candace said through the crackle of static. Behind her
voice they could hear what sounded like sobbing. The sobbing came
across clearly as she stopped talking. “We’re on our way back…
We’re coming back… It’s over,” Candace said. She held on to
the button for a split second longer, the smooth silence spitting
quietly, then the radio in Mike’s hand went back to solid static once
more.

~

“Be
careful, Honey. Be careful.” Mike’s voice came through the radio in
her hand. She nodded, and then keyed the mic. button, “I will.
We’re coming back.” She looked around her.

Tom
sat cradling Lydia in his arms. Bright, thick blood covered the
ground under her chest and the side of Tom’s pant leg. The three
other bodies lay close by. Bob stood, ashen faced, his gun still held
tightly in one hand.

The
pickup truck idled noisily about a hundred yards away from where
Candace stood. The doors hung open. The Suburban and the State truck
rumbled from behind her. Maybe, she thought, five minutes had passed
since they had spotted the truck and stopped behind them. The kids
had come out shooting. Just like in the movies, Candace thought.
Exactly that. Hell! They had acted like it was
a movie. Five minutes and four people dead. She shook her head
slowly.

Tom
looked up from the ground and met Candace’s eyes.

“Let’s
get her in the truck, okay, Tom,” She said softly.

Tom’s
head slowly nodded.

“What…
what about these… these others?” Bob asked.

“Fuck
them,”
Tom rasped. “Fuck
them! They
can rot right there. They’re not going in the truck!” He looked
at Candace defiantly.

“Okay,”
Candace agreed. “Okay… Bob?” She waited until Bob’s eyes left
Lydia’s body. “Help Tom with Lydia?”

Bob
nodded and started towards Tom

“No,”
Tom said quietly. “Don’t need help.” He swiped a blood covered
hand across his eyes, leaving a bright smear of scarlet across his
forehead as he did. “I’ll do it. I’ll take care of her.” His
voice shook at the last, but he got to his feet, carefully holding
Lydia in his arms, and headed for the pickup truck.

“Bob,”
Candace said, motioning to the bodies.

Bob
looked at her questioningly.

“In
the river. We can’t just leave them here.”

Bob
nodded, and together they bent to pick up the first body.

A
few minutes later Candace let the last body slip from her hands and
plunge over the cliffs and into the river far below. She turned her
palms upright and stared at them for a second.

“Candace,”
Bob said. She nodded and followed Bob back to the truck.

Tom
sat behind the wheel, Lydia slumped on the passenger seat, her head
resting against Tom’s shoulder. “You okay to drive?” she asked.

Tom
nodded. His eyes met her own. They were red, and tears perched on the
bottom lids waiting to spill down his cheeks. He cleared his throat,
started to speak and then cleared his throat once more. “I’m
going to drive out of the city. There’s a small little place out by
Huntingtonville. My parents grew.

up
there. There’s a cemetery there…” He trailed off, and Candace
saw the tears that had been perched on his lower lid begin to course
their way down his cheeks. He started to speak again, shook his head
and gave up momentarily. Candace turned her eyes up to the clear blue
morning sky and waited. Tom’s voice came to her quietly a few
minutes later as she watched the empty sky.

“There’s
a shed… In the Cemetery… I thought.” His voice choked up again.

“Yeah.
Yeah,” Candace said softly. “You go. We’ll stop and get Jan and
Mike. They’ll want to be there.”

Tom
nodded. His hand fell to the shift lever on the steering column. His
eyes, tear-filled and overflowing, swept up to her once more.

“You’ll
be okay to get there?” Candace asked.

Tom
nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. He turned his eyes back to
the road.

Candace
nodded. “We’ll meet you there.” She stepped away from the truck
and watched as Tom pulled slowly away.

Mike
~ March 15th

It’s
been a very long day in more ways than one. We are five now. Lydia is
gone. It’s crazy, but true. Tom is in bad shape, sitting by the
fire reading Lydia’s diary.

We
buried her today in Huntingtonville, a little place outside of the
city. There’s a cemetery there right by the river. Tom’s parents
are buried there. Now Lydia is too. It took a lot of work; the ground
is still frozen a few feet down. It could’ve been worse. If
everything wasn’t melting, we would’ve had a much harder time
digging the hole. Tom couldn’t bring himself to do it. Bob and I
did it.

To
make the explanation short, we were ambushed. I shouldn’t say we.
I wasn’t even there. Neither was Jan. We were left behind to watch
the cave.

It
started in the night; these kids came and stole one of our trucks. We
didn’t know they were kids of course. It turned into mess. Three
kids are dead. Young kids. What a waste. We don’t even know why
they did it, why they chose to shoot at the others. None of it.

Everyone
is messed up, me included. Jan too, because we weren’t there. But
it’s over. This part’s over, but really it’s not over at all. I
don’t know what’s next. None of us do. The day has already lasted
fifteen hours so far. The sun doesn’t seem to be moving at all. We
don’t know what to make of it. Everyone just wants to get past this
day, for it to be over.

Lydia
~ March 15th

Lydia
is gone. They took her. I can’t believe it, it’s like a
nightmare. I can’t deal with it. I won’t forget it. Tom.

~Huntingtonville~

The
moon rode high in the sky. Frost gleamed from the freshly turned dirt
that lay scattered across the gravel of the road that led into the
cemetery. Silence held, and then a scraping came from the ground,
muffled, deep.

At
the edge of the woods, eyes flashed dully in the over-bright
moonlight. Shapes shifted among the trees and then emerged from the
shadows onto the gravel roadway. One dragged a leg as he walked,
clothes already rotted and hanging in tatters. A second seemed almost
untouched, a young woman, maybe a little too pale in the wash of
moonlight. She walked as easily as any woman, stepping lightly as she
went. The third and fourth moved slower, purposefully, as they made
their way to the freshly turned soil. They stopped beside the grave,
and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no
puffs of steam on the cold night air.

“Do
you think…?” The young woman asked in a whisper.

“Shut
up,” the one with the dragging leg rasped. His words were almost
unintelligible. His vocal cords rotted and stringy. The noises came
once again from the earth and the four fell silent… waiting…

Her
hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later her head
pushed up, and then she levered her arms upward and began to strain
to pull herself up and out of the hole. She noticed the four and
stopped, her pale skin nearly translucent, her blond hair tangled and
matted against her face and neck. Her lips parted, a question seeming
to ride on them.

“It’s
okay,”
the young woman whispered, “it’s
okay.”
She and one of the older ones moved forward, fell to their knees and
began to scoop the dirt away from her with their hands.

“It’ll
be okay,”
Lydia mumbled through her too cold lips.

“It
will. It will,”
the young woman repeated.

###

 

That
is it for me for another week. I am winding down the weeks until this
blog will be no more. Next week will be the last blog. I wish you all
a happy holiday season, I’ll be back next week, Geo Dell