All Riley could think about was the vast bulk of fiction that had been produced about this kind of thing. All the movies, TV shows, books, video games- it was a pop culture fad, and the local television station was simply trying to capitalise on the genre, or maybe shock some people, he thought.
He was wrong.
Over the next few weeks, the problem spread to pandemic levels, just like in the movies. It was still relatively safe to go places and do business- Riley assumed the disease just hadn’t worked its way this far north yet, at least not in the proportions that were overwhelming cities like New York and Boston. Not that he cared about the why; all that mattered was he and his daughter Regan could still live a semi-normal life, and Riley’s precious six year old princess could still laugh and play with her friends at school.
She was the light of his life, after all, his purpose. After Tegan had left him, Riley sank into the murky blackness of depression for months. It was all gone- his house, his wife, his daughter. His perfect little angel was gone and the courts always ruled in favour of the mother in cases like these.
Riley’s desire to live eventually evaporated on a random day after work. It wasn’t a bad day at the office, and despite the divorce he was financially solvent. He just didn’t care to face the ever-present gnawing pain of having lost everything that mattered to him anymore. He had made a plan, he’d had a weapon. He had made up his mind. His torture would end here. Riley put his pistol in his mouth and… the phone rang.
It was Tegan’s sister Tara, informing him that Tegan had become mentally ill and was to be hospitalised, and the legal powers-that-were had decided to award Riley custody. His agonisingly heavy heart grew wings, and he immediately went to bring Regan home.
Since that day, he had doted on her, his life given new purpose. She WAS his purpose, and he was her world, her invincible superman who would never fail her no matter what. He was her Daddy.
So here they were, living in a world where they were each other’s sun and moon and despite the horror growing in the world- a horror which Riley still found difficult to believe- they were happy.
They were.
It happened in the middle of dinner that evening. First the lights went out. Then Riley and Regan heard a heavy BOOM that rattled the windows of the house.
“Daddy, what’s happening?” Regan asked, sure that whatever it was, Daddy would fix it.
“I’m not sure. Hold on, baby.”
One look out of the dining room’s bay window dispelled all doubts as to the status and severity of the situation. They were running through the neighbourhood, destroying anything that came between them and their victims. Weapons fire sang its violent lyric as some of Riley’s neighbours tried to retaliate. But the mob stormed into each house with the fury of a long forgotten god who had come to wreak its vengeance on non-believers, leaving nothing but broken glass and splintered doors. The gunfire was replaced with the screams of those who knew that they were going to die by the kind abominable horror they saw in television and movies for the past five years.
It seemed so much funnier in Shawn of the Dead.
Regan got into a corner and covered her ears, screaming “Daddy! I’m scared!”
“I’m scared too, honey,” Riley replied, but he summoned every bit of courage he had, and added “but we’re gonna get away from all of this.”
“How, Daddy? They’re outside!” Regan began sobbed.
Riley wiped a tiny tear from his daughter’s face. “We’re going to run, baby! We’re gonna run like hell!”
Regan stopped crying for a moment and shot a puzzled look at her father. “Daddy, you said a bad word!”
Riley smiled at her and admitted, “Yes, I did! I’m sorry, hun. Now come on with me, okay? We have to move fast and quiet.”
Regan looked at her feet as she stood up. “Okay, I’ll try… but I have really short legs.”
The light of Regan’s innocence was like a solar flare in a cave. Riley grinned at her, picked her up and said, “I’ll be your legs when you can’t keep up. Now be good for me, okay?”
Regan beamed from ear to ear. “Okay, Daddy! Let’s go!”
Riley had lost track of how long they had been on the run. After the Jetta had run out of fuel, he and Regan continued west on foot, and now they were in the desert. They had scrounged and scavenged for food and ammunition, all the while staving off their attackers- some still normal humans- with nothing but their wits and Riley’s 1911 pistol.
The horror of the situation was taking its toll on poor little Regan, as was the hunger and thirst- not to mention the lack of rest. She would cry in her sleep, sometimes she would scream for Riley, and he would hold her close, rocking her in his arms, until she found enough peace to go back to sleep. Riley himself was nearly at his wits’ end, but they had made a promise to each other that as long as they were both alive, they wouldn’t give up.
They had taken shelter in an abandoned Navajo reservation. It had been reduced to cinders and ashes, but there was enough material to construct a shelter big enough to accommodate them for the night. Riley made sure the pistol was fully loaded, and as he pressed the last round into the magazine, he heard Regan’s breathing take on the shallow meter of a sleeper.
He leaned against the flimsy, dirty wooden walls of their hastily constructed shack and looked over at Regan. She looked as though her sleep was peaceful, even with her ragged Strawberry Pancake™ dress and her face which had not been adequately washed in weeks- all the water they found had to be used for survival. He smiled as she lay asleep, and convinced himself that everything would be alright. His heavy eyelids were closing; his exhaustion removing any choice to remain conscious.
Riley awoke to Regan screaming and reached over to her with his eyes still closed. But instead of Regan, he grasped cold, decayed flesh.
Riley jumped to his feet with all the alacrity due the situation which he had yet to fully assess. It was with the most profound panic that he saw one of Them biting at Regan’s belly. Her little arms pounded against the thing's shoulders impotently and her tiny feet kicked the air in a futile attempt to run.
He kicked the vile creature’s head as hard as his adrenaline-fuelled rage would allow, and its neck gave way with a rotten crack as it flew backward, away from Regan and through one of the paper-thin walls of the enclosure. He drew his 1911 and fired seven times into the thing’s face, then turned to his daughter, screaming her name.
“Daddy! Daddy, it hurt me!” she said through a terror so thick she could barely make any sound. Riley hurriedly knelt beside her and quickly examined her wound. The creature had torn through Regan’s abdomen, and her little intestines were bulging through the cavernous opening. So much blood, Riley thought, how could such a small person have this much blood to lose?
“Oh, Regan, I know it did! But I got it, it can’t hurt you anymore!” Tears began to obscure Riley’s view of his treasured child. He blinked them away quickly, because he didn’t want her to see his grief. He knew she wouldn’t last long and he was determined to be her rock.
Regan gasped, “Don’t cry, Daddy, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt as bad now. See? I’m already getting sleepy again. I was so…scared…Daddy…” Riley scooped her up into his trembling arms and held her gently in his lap. He smoothed her dingy hair away from her quickly blanching face, still angelic through the caked mud and blood splatter.
Fighting back the tears was a monumental effort, but Riley managed it. “I was too, Muffin! Here, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Don’t worry about a thing, Daddy’s got you.” He began humming to her, and looked into her eyes. Regan met his gaze and smiled. Riley smiled back, and watched as her face relaxed and her body went limp. The bright eyes he had been looking into lost their light, and became glassy and dull.
Riley finally let the pent up despair tear through his body, allowing the grief to take him. His tears ran until there were none to shed, all the while rocking Regan back and forth, crying out his devastation to whatever or whoever was there to hear it. His world had just come to an end.
Finally he found the strength to lay her on the dusty ground. He smoothed out her wrinkled little dress, fixed her butterfly hair clip to the part in her hair, and stood up. With eyes swollen from weeping and voice hoarse from yelling his despair, he stood up, legs shaking and mind spinning from overwhelming heartbreak. He knew They would have heard him, and they would come.
Surely enough, Riley detected the rapid shuffle of the monsters that had chased him across the country. Let them come, he thought. He no longer cared. He was already dead. The first of the insane mob came into view, and Riley knew what he was going to do. He had a plan, he had a weapon. He had made up his mind. His torture would end here.
Theirs was about to begin.
Discord
Light Style