Free Desolation Boulevard by Mark Gordon Page A

piles, dotting the streets here and there
like Gothic birdcages. Matt cried and cried.
    If the feeders had been creatures of the
day, Matt would surely have died that morning. The combination of
sorrow, shock and despair would have made him an easy target for
the rampant beasts. He had no fight in him. He was broken. The
well-adjusted sixteen-year-old boy with a loving family, had no
weapon in his emotional arsenal to cope with the sights he had
witnessed, so if a feeder had attacked him, he would surely have
joined the community of the dead. But he saw none.
    Before Matt went home he knew he needed to
check a theory that had been festering in the recesses of his
subconscious. Deep inside he knew that if he didn’t follow his
hunch today, he might never have the courage to do so in the
future, and if his theory turned out to be correct it might help
his quest for survival (although at the moment, he didn’t really
care about survival one way or the other). There was one place he
needed see again – the cellar of the pub.
    Matt’s theory was simple. If these creatures
were not roaming around town today then they must be hiding again.
He didn’t have any idea why they would need to do that, but that
was really beside the point right now. He needed to know what they
did, not why they were doing it. He pulled his truck to a stop in
front of the pub, and grabbed his shotgun and flashlight. He
flicked off the weapon’s safety and stepped out of the car, before
looking around. The only things moving were clouds floating across
a perfect blue sky, and trees whispering in the light breeze. Matt
opened the door cautiously and walked into the pub, with his
shotgun held in front of him and his finger on the trigger. Except
for the increased number of flies buzzing around the uneaten meals,
the scene in the front bar hadn’t changed since he was there the
day before. There were no humans, feeder or otherwise, in sight. He
headed for the cellar stairs.
    Matt knew that he was in mortal danger if
his theory about the feeders was wrong, and he would probably not
leave the cellar alive. If his theory was correct, however, his
chances of survival might be improved significantly. It was a risk
worth taking, and he had nothing to lose. He went to the cellar
door and peered down into the darkness. There was only silence.
With his flashlight in one hand and shotgun in the other, he headed
quietly and slowly down the stairs. He paused at the bottom and
listened, but could hear nothing. He crept to the spot by the beer
kegs where he had seen the unconscious bodies the day before and
shone his flashlight into the gloomy recess. His theory was
correct! The feeders had returned to their nesting spot.
    He counted the hibernating bodies and
noticed that the number was less than it had been. Matt couldn’t
know for sure, but he was felt there were at least three or four
missing. He wondered if they had been killed by other feeders in
last night’s bedlam or had simply found a different hiding place.
As he shone the flashlight over the group, Matt noticed that they
were much dirtier than they been yesterday, and their faces were
covered with dried, crusty blood. He could see, too, that some of
these feeders had sustained injuries, which were still seeping
blood onto the tile floor beneath them. He’d seen enough. He had
the information he was seeking and it was time to go home to
grieve. He trudged to the car and drove home with thoughts of a
bleak and desperate future in his head.

Chapter 17
     
    Extract from Sally’s journal:
    “I’m alive. I’m not
sure if that’s a good thing but it’s a start. The two days since I
was attacked have been the worst of my life so I’ve decided to
write things down to help me stay sane (do insane people know
they’re insane? I might be already!) I think somebody needs to
record these events so it might as well be me. After all, I’ve
suddenly become one of the best writers in the world (ha ha).
Anyway,