Autumn Rain - August 28, 2010

There's a town up ahead. The sign says so. But sometimes the signs lie. Sometimes all you find are ashes and tumbled bricks.  A cold rain begins to fall as he makes his way into town. His pace is slow and steady. No need to hurry; there never is a need to hurry.

He walks down the empty street in the tiny little town of nowhereville. No movement save for the rain falling gently. His boots echo off the pavement. The rifle in his hands an old friend; the last friend he has.

He speaks to his rifle sometimes, but not often. Only crazy people talk to objects. He wasn't crazy. Lonely maybe but not crazy. There was a child that was trying to drive him crazy though. They had been following him for quite some time now. Always keeping their distance so he could never see them. Sometimes he would turn to look back and catch the movement of a bush. Sometimes he could hear laughter far off in the night.

He stops and turns. A sound. Like small feet running up behind him. A child's feet. There's nothing there. The child is still with him. Following. Keeping hidden. After a pause he moves on.

He steps into an open doorway of a house and removes his straw cowboy hat. It has called his head home for the last couple of years. He shakes the water off and has a look around. The windows are mostly gone. The calender on the wall now six years out of date. Or is it seven? Hard to remember when you have no one to talk to and no reason to count the days.

He had hoped to find a dry spot to sit down but the couch is next to a broken window. Moldy and rotting and covered with rat droppings. The easy chair isn't much better. No rest for the weary. He puts his hat back on and goes back outside.

The leaves are turning colors on the trees in the yard. Some have started to fall and a bright yellow one rests on the seat of a rusted tricycle. It strikes him as a beautiful sight and for a moment he wishes for a camera. The moment passes and he moves on down the street.

To his left is movement and he raises his rifle. A single zombie trapped inside a car. It's been there for years; too stupid to even free itself. It's eyes are gone but it knows the man is there. It raises it's hands to scratch against the windshield, almost as if it's asking the man to set it free.

The zombies seemed to start to vanish two years ago, (or was it three?). It puzzled the man to no end. Seeing one now was rare indeed. At first he had joked to himself that they all boarded a boat headed for France. It had made him laugh for a moment. Now he couldn't remember why he had thought it was funny. Just for a second he wonders what the zombie would do if he opened the car door. Would it come for him or would it start heading East to board that boat? He leaves the zombie and moves on.

The small grocery store ahead brings back memories of candy bars and ice cream and he heads for the broken plate glass windows. He steps through and legions of roaches take flight from the giant that has entered their domain. There is little to be had here. The can goods have long since burst and the dry goods have been eaten away by rats and bugs. No candy bars today. A couple packs of cigarettes and a lighter are all that he can salvage. Back out into the rain.

There are cars and trucks on main street; sitting on flat tires. The gas in their tanks useless after so long. Their batteries as dead as the last person he knew. Who was the last person?

It was hard to remember now. Maybe Carolyn that fell down the stairs and broke her neck five years ago. No, not her. It must have been the little girl. What the heck was her name? Susan. That was it. Susan in the little white dress with the huge red stain. She had called him daddy all the time. Why did she do that? He couldn't remember. He suddenly didn't want to.

The town is as empty as the last four hundred towns he's been in. Time to move on. More walking to do, more towns to check. He shields his cigarette with his hand as he lights the end of it. The smoke melts away into the rain as he walks on. Tiny footsteps follow after.

-zombiewriter