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WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

GRUBBY ANGELS By Jasmine DiAngelo
June 10, 2013  Short stories   

Billy awoke slowly, almost reluctantly; his skinny arms still wrapped protectively around his little sister. The city was waking up from the long, dark night as well and an insipid light was filtering into their hiding place.

He lay perfectly still, listening as the collapsed building creaked and groaned around them as it warmed up. The hole they were in was barely big enough for the both of them and the entrance was a tight squeeze even for a couple of small children, but at least they were reasonably safe from the infected.

 

He opened one eye and watched as a dust mote danced in a thin beam of light, like a dancer on a stage. Molly stirred and moaned softly.

 

“Shhhh” he said stroking her hair. She seemed to settle down a little. He felt tears well up in his eyes; he needed to be brave like daddy said, but a single tear escaped and ran down his grimy cheek.

 

Billy sat up in the tiny cave rubbing sleep from his eyes and rummaged through their meager possessions. They had a quarter of a tin of dog food left, a little water and a tin of something. He didn’t know what it was, there was no label on its rusty exterior and he’d lost the can opener when they’d had to run from a swarm of the infected.

 

The dog food was going black and dry on top and didn’t smell very nice, but it was all there was for breakfast. He’d have to work out a way to open the other can soon.

 

He checked Molly for any new injuries, tearing of a bit more off his shirt and binding the cuts and abrasions from the previous day. Then after rinsing his mouth with some of the water to get the taste of the rancid dog food, he spat some onto a rag and tried to clean her grubby face as best he could.

 

“Hold still” he said as he wiped away some of the grime “Mummy said I had to look after you and she’d be mad if she saw how messy you were now.”

 

She stood as if in a daze, still hugging a battered dolly that was missing its head and one arm, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was in one of her unresponsive moods, but at least she’ll be quiet, thought Billy. He wrapped some rags around his feet and tied a couple of old plastic shopping bags over the top, it wouldn’t last long, but at least he’d have dry feet for a little while.

 

His filthy jacket was several sizes too big, but that was a blessing as it served as a crude sleeping bag for the both of them when they stopped for the night. It reeked of sweat, fear and urine. Sometimes their hiding place was very cramped and it was too dangerous to go outside and he often he was forced to lie sopping in his own piss.

 

After a while he didn’t care anymore, the painful rash caused by the uric acid on his upper legs and crotch soon melded with all the other discomforts and hurts.

 

He tied up the few things they had in an old flour sack and checked his father’s revolver the way he had been shown. It had just three rounds left, but the action was still smooth despite the early stages of rust.

 

Billy picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, the string he used as a strap digging into his bony shoulder.  “C’mon Molly, we have to go …  we need to find the good guys” he said softly before crawling through the hole. She hesitated for a second before scrambling after him on her hands and knees and out into the weak dawn light.

 

She tottered after him, the remains of her nappy sagging almost to her knees, arms outstretched toward Billy as he looked up and down the street checking for any signs of danger. It seemed clear.

 

He looked down at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry Molly, I can’t carry you, you’re too heavy now.” As he headed off down the street she gave a little sigh and followed him as fast as her little legs could carry her, her arms still outstretched hopefully.

 

The early morning dew sparkled as the sun came up and Billy paused to lick the moisture off the windscreen of a wrecked car, the driver glaring at him through empty eye sockets. It wasn’t much, but it eased his thirst a little.

 

Molly bumped into him and began tugging at his jacket.

 

“Stop that” he said irritably “Or I’ll tell mummy you’ve been a bad girl.”

 

She seemed to think about that for a few seconds, and then reached up for him again.

 

He felt the tears start again. “Molly, I know you miss mummy and daddy. I miss them too, but they can’t be here” he regarded his little sister sadly “You’re too young to understand.” Billy sighed and trudged tiredly down the road, followed closely by Molly.

 

They walked for a few hours until they reached a bus lying on its side. Billy crawled inside, but there was nothing worth taking. No food or water at any rate, just old sale receipts scattered around the wreck.

 

He felt faint and his hunger pangs were now a constant torment. A jagged piece of metal gave him an idea and Billy reached into his bag and took out the rusty can. It made a gentle sloshing noise as he hefted it in his hand. He aimed carefully and slammed it down onto the pointed edge.

 

All he’d succeeded in doing was to dent the can and leave a bright scar where the rust had been scraped off. He rubbed his wrist and gently pushed his sister away.

 

“Please Molly, I have to try to open this.”

 

He brought the can down again, harder this time and brown liquid squirted out over his hand. He licked his fingers and immediately spat on the ground.

 

“Paint”, he said in a barely audible voice and slumped against the wreck, this time letting the tears flow.

 

“It’s not fair … it’s just not fair,” he sobbed picking up the can and throwing it as hard as he could across the road. Molly looked up at him, clutching at his clothing.

 

“Go ‘way Molly” he said and roughly shoved her away. She fell flat on her bottom, sitting in the road for a few seconds before getting up and toddling back over to him holding her arms out.

 

Billy stroked her hair as she tried to climb onto his lap. “I’m sorry,” he said wiping his eyes with the back of his hand “I just wish mummy and daddy were here.”

 

He looked down the road as a movement caught his eye; there he saw two roughly dressed bearded men. One of them pointed and yelled.

 

“There, I tole ya I heard sumthin’”

 

Billy was on his feet in a second, scooping up Molly and running as fast as he could away from the men. He heard a shouted curse and the sound of boots pounding on the cracked roadway.

 

“Hey kid, stop. We ain’t gonna hurt ya,” one of them shouted.

 

Billy ran on even faster, Molly clinging to him, her face buried in his neck. He was tiring fast and the two men were gaining on him. He looked around desperately for a hiding place and as he rounded a corner, he saw a half burnt out house.

 

Billy scrambled over a collapsed wall, ignoring the pain as he cut his feet on the rubble and broken glass, some of the floorboards had been burnt away and sobbing with fear he squeezed into the hole, dragging Molly in after him.

 

There was only just enough room between the floor and ash-blacked ground for the two children and Billy lay flat on his stomach like a lizard in a crevice, desperately trying to control his panicked breathing.

 

He pointed the pistol at the opening. He had three bullets left, one for the first raider unlucky enough to discover them and one each for Molly and himself. He’d decided a while ago that he wouldn’t let them be taken alive.

 

For a minute he heard nothing, then there was the unmistakable sound of boots moving stealthily over the wooden boards.

 

“I’m sure the little fuckers came in here,” whispered a voice.

 

“Yeah, mebbe,” came another low voice.

 

Billy was shaking uncontrollably as he listened to the men talking as they searched for them. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered raiders.

 

They’d almost been caught by some a few weeks back and he remembered the cold brutality in their faces and how they’d killed the dog that had befriended them. Both he and Molly had hidden in terror in the boot of a burnt out car, the group of men and women shouting to each other as they tried to find them.

 

They didn’t just kill the dog, they’d hurt it for the fun of it, laughing as it whined and yelped in pain, its eyes bright with fear and betrayal. Billy had put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut until it was over.

 

And in a sudden flush of shame, he remembered how his mouth had watered as the smell of roasting meat had wafted over them in their hiding place as they had cooked the dog.

 

After a while one of the men grunted, “Fuck this shit, they ain’t here.”

 

He lay still, holding Molly close for a long time after they’d left. When he finally thought it was safe he crawled out. He walked a few steps before collapsing in pain from his injured feet.

 

Molly toddled up to him and plucked gently at his clothing.  He almost smiled. She was still wearing the remains of her ragged pink party dress, complete with the battered and bent fairy wings she’d resisted any attempt to remove. In the failing light, she almost looked like a grubby little angel.

 

He looked around and saw a cupboard in the remains of the kitchen, it was as good a place as any to hide and he wasn’t going to be able to walk very far anyway. He climbed inside and as Molly crawled in after him, he pulled the door closed.

 

He was so very tired, but Molly continued to fidget, tugging at his clothing and nuzzling his neck. In the end he pulled the stump of a candle from his pocket and lit it.

 

“You want me to read you a story?”

 

He pulled a damp damaged and dog-eared book from his bag and began to read. As he did Molly began to calm down and finally lay still.

 

The book was ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’

 

“By the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf. On a warm Sunday morning when the sun came up … pop! Out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar

 

On Monday he ate through a whole apple but he was still hungry”

 

He paused as outside one of the infected howled in the night. He read on.

 

“On Saturday he ate through one piece of chocolate cake. One ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese …”

 

Billy stopped reading. He was so hungry. He finally fell asleep dreaming of chocolate cake.

 

In the morning, he strained some water from a puddle through a rag and called that breakfast. He was very weak, but he bandaged his feet as best he could and limped down the road, Molly toddled after him her arms outstretched as usual.

 

“I can’t carry you Molly,” he said looking back at her “And we have to find the good guys, like daddy said.”

 

The pistol was heavy, so he tied a bit of string to the trigger guard and hung it around his neck. A few hours later the last of the water was finished and Billy was beginning to feel dizzy and his vision began to blur.

 

“Are we there yet?” he mumbled to himself and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

 

“You’re almost there sweetheart”.

 

“Mommy?”

 

“I’m very proud of you Billy, we both are.”

 

“I’m tired mommy and I’m really, really hungry.”

 

“I know sweetheart, but it’s not far now and you’ve looked after your little sister just like we asked.”

 

“Mommy?” he began to cry again “Please don’t leave us again.”

 

“I’m so sorry Billy, but you have to be brave just a little while longer.”

 

“Mommy … I can’t …” Billy staggered to a stop and as Molly bumped into him he looked up.  There was a wall with a large gate in front of them. He could make out the words ‘Flints Outpost’ crudely painted on the crossbar.

 

“Jesus Christ” said a voice and Billy came out of his daze. Several men and women were standing by the gate, a couple had weapons pointed at him and his sister.

 

Billy backed away a few steps, pushing Molly behind him and brought his fathers pistol up.

 

“He’s got a gun,” yelled one of them and the others brought their rifles to bear.

 

“Stand down,” boomed a voice and the guards reluctantly lowered their weapons, but remained wary.

 

Captain ‘Cannibal’ Körner strode forward and stopped a few yards from Billy.

 

“Where you headed soldier?” he said gently and then saluted.

 

Billy was completely taken aback and after a short pause, awkwardly saluted back. His eyes wide open in awe of the giant in front of him. He was nothing like the raiders; for one he was well dressed and radiated a calm friendliness.

 

“A-are you t-the good guys?” Billy stammered.

 

The big man grinned and rubbed his chin, “Yeah, we’re the good guys. And who’s this? He said nodding toward Molly.

 

“That’s my little sister, mommy said I had to look after her.”

 

“You’ve done a hell of a job soldier, I could use a man like you in my platoon” said Körner.

 

“Really?” Billy smiled for the first time in a long time.

 

“Max.”

 

“Sir?”  Replied one of the guards.

 

“Go get Sally the head nurse … on the double.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Körner turned back to Billy and saw that Molly was gently tugging at the boys clothing.  A minute later Sally ran up, her med bag bouncing against her hip.

 

“Hi Canni, What’s up?  Her hand flew up to her mouth when she saw the two children  “… Oh my.”

 

The young boy was almost skeletal, and bloody rags covered his feet. Starvation had left his skin almost translucent and his eyes and teeth looked too big for his skull.

 

“This is Billy,” said Körner gently “When he gets a bit bigger, he’s going to be a member of my squad… isn’t that right son?”

 

“Yes sir, “ said Billy giving the big guardsman another salute.

 

“Hello Billy” said Sally, tears pricking her eyes, “You’re safe now, and we’re going to look after you OK?”

 

“Kay, but my little sister is sick … I promised mommy I’d look after her.”

 

Sally looked at Molly. The remains of a bloody pink dress hung off her tiny body. Duct tape was wrapped around her head, covering her mouth and jaw and her dead white eyes seemed to see everything … and nothing.

 

“We’ll take care of you both sweetheart” said Sally her voice breaking and held out her hand to the young boy.

 

Molly let out a soft moan and reached her arms up toward Billy. He gave her one last hug, brushing her tangled hair from her face and then took Sally’s hand.

 

Sally nodded to a grim faced Captain Körner. He watched as she took the young boy into the compound and turned to the little girl.

 

“Max, your machete.”

 

“Jesus, I can’t kill her Captain, she’s just a kid.”

 

“I’m not asking you to … I’ll do it.”

 

Max drew the blade and handed it to Körner.

 

Molly looked up at the big guardsman and toddled toward him, her arms outstretched as if she wanted to be picked up. The machete came down with a crack and she lay still.

 

For a long minute Körner stood staring down at the little body, the fairy wings fluttering gently in the breeze. Then he threw the weapon as far as he could and stalked back into the outpost, the other guards parting as he walked though them. No one wanted to look into his eyes.

 

Sally picked Billy up and carried him toward the infirmary, dismayed at how little he weighed. He clung to her and she felt his hot tears on her neck.

 

“Is she with the angels now?” said Billy in a small voice.

 

“Yes baby,” whispered Sally choking back her own tears “She’s with the angels now.”

33 Comments

  1. Exceptional storytelling- thank you
    Grim , yet touching and surprising

    Comment by Brian on June 10, 2013 @ 10:59 pm

  2. Loved it. This one was a great read! Brave kid! More please!

    Comment by Hijinxjeep on June 11, 2013 @ 12:41 am

  3. One of the very few stories that has ever moved me to tears. Beautifully written, I have re read three times in a row. So sad.

    Comment by Craig on June 11, 2013 @ 3:02 am

  4. Very good, more please!

    Comment by Gunldesnapper on June 11, 2013 @ 6:43 am

  5. wow…

    Great story

    Comment by Scott on June 11, 2013 @ 7:37 am

  6. That was just incredible, you really got to me. That maxde me feel something, just wow.

    Comment by Joe from Philly on June 11, 2013 @ 9:07 am

  7. Great story, definitely tugged at the heart strings. Well done.

    Comment by Terry on June 11, 2013 @ 11:20 am

  8. I have a son, Owen, he’s three and a daughter, Amelia, she’s 1 1/2. Her favorite Disney character is Tinkerbell and they have the book The Very Hungry Caterpillar on their bookshelf. Needless to say, this story hit, hard. In fact, I didn’t want to continue reading after I realized it was about kids because they are often too real and as always, I couldn’t stop reading once I started. “I can’t pick you up Molly, you’re too heavy now.” I see what you did there and it made sense in the end.

    Comment by Richard Gustafson on June 11, 2013 @ 5:03 pm

  9. Very, very good. It’s a rare thing to have the grubbiness, filth, sickness and deprivation of survival mentioned and described so well. (A can of paint. Perfect!)

    And it’s rare to feel so keenly the tragedy that most of the stories on this site hold. This tale succeeded on all counts. The true heartbreak was revealed perfectly.

    Call me picky, but I think the story would have ended very well with “Max, your machete.” That line just said it all. It had weight and finality.

    Great stuff altogether.

    Comment by KevinF on June 11, 2013 @ 5:15 pm

  10. What a phenomenal story – you really have a gift. There may be more, but off the top of my head, I honestly believe this is the only story (zombie-related or not) that has moved me to tears. My little niece has that book The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and I kept picturing how she reaches her arms out to be picked up. The whole thing was so real and touching, and the ending tied it all together so nicely; at the end I felt genuine heartache and relief at the same time. Very well done!

    Comment by ChadR on June 11, 2013 @ 8:21 pm

  11. “The early morning dew sparkled as the sun came up and Billy paused to lick the moisture off the windscreen of a wrecked car, the driver glaring at him through empty eye sockets. It wasn’t much, but it eased his thirst a little.”

    This is one of the most desperation-laden lines I have ever read in my life. I don’t know about everyone else, but when I read that particular paragraph, I pictured Billy licking the windshield, paying no attention to the grime that was probably there, his nerves probably frayed a little by the body inside the car and his dead sister, who he had sense enough to tape her mouth shut.

    Being a parent of a boy and a girl, I could see and feel this story, and I loved and hated it all at the same time. By hating it, I don’t mean I hated the story, but that the events were painful to read.

    Molly’s second death was an act of beautiful mercy, and the Captain’s reaction was perfect, and exactly how I think he would have reacted.

    I enjoyed the raw emotion of this piece, Jasmine. Very well done.

    Comment by A.J. Brown on June 12, 2013 @ 1:56 pm

  12. Thank you for the wonderful story.

    Comment by Angel on June 12, 2013 @ 8:03 pm

  13. Crikey, what can I add that hasn’t already been said? This is an incredible story and what an emotional wrench at the end. Jasmine, can I point out that zombie stories are not meant to bring tears to your eyes? I really hope we see more of your writing.

    Comment by Nigel on June 13, 2013 @ 3:14 am

  14. Exceptional writing and the ability to make the reader gut immersed in the characters themselves which is a remarkable gift. Keep writing!

    Comment by John the Piper's Son on June 13, 2013 @ 4:49 am

  15. Well done, really great read.

    Comment by Doc on June 13, 2013 @ 8:47 am

  16. Oh man, I was bawling by the end of this! What a piece of beautiful prose, and it catches the vulnerability of children during the zombie apocalypse so well. This is damned good stuff. I nominate it for a site award!

    Comment by Craig Y on June 13, 2013 @ 3:57 pm

  17. Thank you for this piece. What a bitter sweet and well paced tale. I never saw the end coming.

    Comment by abe on June 13, 2013 @ 8:30 pm

  18. Bittersweet, poignant and heart-wrenching.
    Very natural the way it was written.
    Im not sure if it were the parents or the boy himself who duct taped the girl.
    Just makes it sadder for me coz the boy had
    known but subconsciously repressed this knowledge, the mental agony in addition to his physical state would have been too much
    for him to handle. So sad.
    Nevertheless, this was a really good twist,
    made more effective by not being broadcast at all till the last moment.

    Comment by bong on June 13, 2013 @ 8:59 pm

  19. Holy smokes. Wow, great story. I’ve seen very few stories written from a child’s perspective that actually rang true. This one certainly does. Wonderful.

    Sequel?

    Comment by Kristen on June 14, 2013 @ 11:42 am

  20. I remember watching my own children at that young age. They would bicker and fight, play and laugh but there was always love for one another. Your story brings to mind the love children, especially siblings, have for one another. It also brings to mind the memory of my oldest daughter feeling the responsibility to look after her younger brothers and sister when she is barely old enough to look after herself. I like that you did not flinch from the stark brutal reality facing children in an apocalypse situation. This is a story of love in a very hard place. Good story.

    Comment by WPM on June 14, 2013 @ 1:13 pm

  21. Thank you so much everyone, you’ve all been really sweet … and AJ, those comments coming from a writer of your talents, really meant a lot to me. Before I posted I was worried it might be a bit ‘girly’, but I’m glad you all liked it.

    I’m writing some more for the series that I’m calling ‘City of Angelz’, each will have an ‘angel’ theme and they will be linked to each other.

    A special thank you and hugs to Pete Bevan, editor of Tales of the Zombie War for publishing my story, I hope some more of my stories will be good enough.

    Jasmine

    Comment by Jasmine DiAngelo on June 15, 2013 @ 1:48 pm

  22. Like others, this made me think of my kids. This was heart breaking and starkly realistic. Excellent writing, this was an amazing story. I can’t wait to read your next one.

    Comment by Linda on June 20, 2013 @ 12:18 am

  23. Thanks for posting! About you worrying that this would be to ‘girly’ – I think most ‘guys’ (not to stereotype) would normally prefer to be entertained with comedy or horror over sad and emotional but this was right in the middle. I dont often enjoy being sad, but this time I did. Fantastic job and I look forward to more DiAngelo Angel stories.

    Comment by Justin Dunne on June 20, 2013 @ 12:43 am

  24. Leave a comment

    Comment by Kim on June 25, 2013 @ 9:20 pm

  25. Awesome story!!!!! Broke my heart at the end.
    Hope to read more from you.

    Comment by Kim on June 25, 2013 @ 9:22 pm

  26. Just wanted to say that the story was incredibly moving…amongst the best I have read for some time. Great job…I will be looking for other chapters in your ‘Angels’ series!

    Comment by David on July 1, 2013 @ 4:39 pm

  27. An amazing job. Heartbreaking and touching tale. I look forward to reading more of your work.

    Comment by Jose on July 18, 2013 @ 5:51 pm

  28. Jasmine – Wow. Just, wow. Amazing. Like Richard Gustafson, I too have a little girl about Molly’s age. I kept picturing her in Molly’s place. One thing I noted was that he never had to tell his sister to be quiet, but it never struck me that she would be a zombie. Excellent, simply excellent job.

    Comment by JamesAbel on July 30, 2013 @ 11:59 am

  29. Jasmine, I have had to read this story multiple times before I was emotionally able to comment. As a parent, the first time I read it, I had to get up and walk away, followed by rounding up my kids, ages 17, 13, 10, and 8, and give them a hug. I loved the descriptions of the world these two kiddos are “living” in. I am usually pretty darn good at spotting the “twists,” however, this one not only slipped by me, but it messed with my head as well. Keep up the great work!

    Comment by Tonya on August 4, 2013 @ 5:42 pm

  30. The long and short of it is this story kicks you in the gut. Very visceral.

    Wow.

    Comment by JohnT on August 11, 2013 @ 8:33 pm

  31. Jasmine, I’ve read this story at least a dozen times–something I don’t usually do–and it’s impact is just a powerful this last time as it was the first time.

    The images you painted with the words you used. Honestly, nothing I can say does this justice. I can honestly say, of all the stories I have read on this site–and there have been quite a few great reads–this has to be my favorite piece.

    The last line is so heart wrenchingly beautiful:

    “Yes baby,” whispered Sally choking back her own tears “She’s with the angels now.”

    Thank you for ripping my heart out, and then carefully putting it back in my chest and stitching it up. And, yes, that’s a good thing.

    Comment by A.J. Brown on August 16, 2013 @ 9:15 pm

  32. wow..just wow… I kept wondering why the little girl never got water or was offered food. Twisted and fantastic storytelling

    Comment by mayor adam west on November 11, 2013 @ 10:41 pm

  33. Hey Jasmine, absolutely great story. I’m a writer myself working on a post apocalyptic zombie novel, and one of my characters is a three year old little boy.

    Also, I have an unusual love for children, and I almost couldn’t read your story shortly after I started it. But I went ahead, got through it and was glad I did. And yes, the tears flowed, a rare thing for me. But it’s kids, so the dam is weaker.

    Hate to be the only nay-sayer here, but regarding my own writing, while I love the positives, they don’t help me, other than a stroke.

    Now to the nay-saying.

    Could use a couple more drafts, just for polishing.

    But the story is truly amazing. You have a talent that is rare in literature. Keep it up.

    Joe Keck

    Comment by Joe Keck on January 29, 2014 @ 10:13 am

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