by Dziekan, PJ
“One more to check.” She shifted over, opened the last set of doors, wincing as she did. No animals skittered away. Instead she saw two cans shoved far in the back, amid a scattering of rat droppings. She reached in, pushing aside a chewed box of crackers. “Chili and fruit cocktail,” she said with a smile as she pulled them out and handed them to Mick.
“Are you going to eat the peaches?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Sure, it all tastes the same, anyway.” Sarah pulled herself up using the counter.
“Nothing else?”
She shook her head. “Pretty well cleaned out. We’ll have to use some of our stuff.”
They headed back into the living room where Dylan was tearing and crumpling pages from books and throwing them into the open stove. “Wait, Dylan, let me see if there’s anything good there,” Sarah said.
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Be my guest. Looks like all crappy romance novels.”
Sarah glanced through the books on the shelves, pulling three from authors she recognized. “Have at it,” she told Dylan, taking the books back to where Mick had laid their sleeping bags.
“Did you find anything?” Becca asked Sarah from where she squatted on her bag, opening her backpack.
“A can of chili and fruit cocktail.”
“I have another can of chili,” Becca said, pulling it from her bag.
“Soon as Dylan gets the fire going, we’ll heat them up.” Sarah rummaged in her pack for her can opener.
“I saw some wood outside. I’ll get it,” Mick said. He slipped out the door. Sarah started opening a can of chili, stifling a yawn as she did.
“You need to get some sleep,” Becca said, taking the can and opener from Sarah. She had both cans open in less than a minute.
“I do,” she admitted. She sighed, fatigue making her slump.
“After we eat, you sleep. The three of us can handle the watch.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’ll take my turn. All I need is a couple hours sleep.”
Becca sighed. “Sarah…”
“Becca, I’m fine. There’s no reason I can’t do what I always did.” She let a smile creep over her face. “At least until I’m the size of a hippo walking around, demanding pickles and ice cream.”
Becca laughed. “I’d like to see that.” She set the open cans of chili to the side. “But if you wanted ice cream that bad, you know he’d find it for you.”
Sarah’s eyes flicked up, caught Mick coming in, arms loaded with wood. “I know,” she said softly.
♦
Chili heated and eaten, they sat around the stove enjoying their dessert of fruit cocktail. Sarah ate the peaches. When she was finished, she put the paper plate aside and wiped her mouth. “I have a plan for tomorrow,” she said.
All eyes turned to her. “What is it?” Mick asked.
“We don’t know what kind of people these folks are,” she started. “What –or who—their priorities are.” She looked around the group. “But they probably place some importance on family, like the father/daughter relationship.” She looked down at her lap, not daring to look at Mick, not wanting to see the anger she knew was coming. “Dylan and I will go in as father/daughter. We stand the best shot of getting in and blending until we find Ryan.”
“No fucking way,” Mick swore. “You’re not going in there without me.”
“What, you don’t trust me to look after her?” Dylan asked.
“I trust you, but I trust myself more.” He set his plate, still containing a few chunks of fruit, in front of him. His appetite was gone.
Sarah took a deep breath and looked up at him. “You’ll be a risk to them,” she said bluntly. “Young guy in good shape. They’re liable to just shoot you on sight or beat the shit out of you like Ryan.” She turned to Dylan. “You’re older, less of a threat. I think they’ll be more accepting of you.”
Dylan nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“I don’t!” Mick exclaimed. “I could just as easily go in with you, play down my – I don’t know – act slow or act like a bad ass. I can do this!”
She reached out and took his hand. “You can’t, Mick. It has to be this way.” Her voice was soft.
“Then he can take Becca.”
“No, Mick. You and Becca are our back up. You’ll be there to help us out. With Ryan.” Sarah rubbed her forehead. “It’s the best way.”
“No, it’s not,” Mick insisted. “We can do something else.”
“She’s right.” Becca said quietly. “They’ll be able to blend easier.”
“I still think she and I can do it.” Mick sighed. “We’ve always done it together.”
“And we will again,” Sarah said. She stifled a yawn. “Just not this time.”
Mick saw the fatigue in Sarah’s face. He let out a breath, knowing he would give her what she wanted. “OK.” He looked at Dylan. “If she gets hurt, I’ll kill you.”
Dylan started to make a biting remark until he saw the resolve in Mick’s eyes. “I’ll take care of her like she was my daughter.” Mick nodded once.
“We’ll have to do a little recon tomorrow,” Sarah said, yawning again. “We should try and do it while it’s just getting light. They probably won’t be as alert.” In the dying light, filtering in through the front window, she saw the nods. “We should sleep now. I need to sleep now. Two-hour shifts. Becca, you first, then Dylan. Wake me in four hours.”
“OK.” Dylan threw another log on the fire then settled into his sleeping bag.
“See you in a couple hours, Dylan,” Becca said as she moved to an easy chair a little further from the fire. She could still feel the heat, but barely. She pulled a battery-operated lantern from her backpack and a small notebook. After she flicked on the lantern, she started to write in the journal she had started a few days after the world went to hell. Someone might care someday.
Mick had zipped their bags together. Sarah slid in, Mick right behind her. He pulled her against him, his hand resting on her belly. “I do trust you,” he whispered in her ear. “I just wish I could be there to take care of you.”
“I know,” Sarah answered softly. “But I’ll be fine.”
Mick dropped a kiss to the back of her neck. “I know.”
♦
Sarah woke with a start. Flashes of her dream – outstretched arms, biting mouths, a horrible scream – faded quickly but left a sense of unease. She turned her head to see Mick sleeping on his side, his breathing deep and steady. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she eased herself from the sleeping bag and stood, stretching.
She nodded at Dylan on her way to the small powder room. He was sitting where Becca had been when Sarah fell asleep, the same battery powered lantern illuminating the table where he had laid out a hand of solitaire. She relieved herself then wiped her hands with the anti-bacteria wipes she had placed there earlier. There was not enough light to see herself in the mirror and for that, she was grateful.
She walked back out to the main room and retrieved her backpack. “I’m ready, Dylan,” she said as she moved to where he was dealing a new hand of solitaire.
“Why don’t you get some more sleep?” He asked, not looking at her. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”
She tossed her pack to the corner. “I’m fine, Dylan.” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice. She really tried. “Maybe you need the sleep, Dad.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe I do.” He gathered his cards, pushed them into a neat stack on the TV tray. “You came up with a really good plan for tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dylan.” She wasn’t used to praise from him.
“I want you to know, you don’t have to worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I just need you at my back. I can take care of myself.”
“That you can.” He stood up. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
Dylan disappeared into the powder room, came back a few minutes later drying his hands on his pants. Sarah watched as he c
rossed the room and climbed into his sleeping bag. He sketched a wave in her direction before turning on his side, away from the meager light of the lantern.
Sarah sat in the quiet, listening to the fire crackle, the easy breathing of her companions, the wind gusting outside. The world was so still. No distant sounds of cars, planes, trains. Just quiet. She liked that.
That’s not to say she didn’t miss her old life. She did. More than she cared to admit. She missed clean clothes and showering every day. She missed the internet and her favorite TV shows. She missed takeout food and being able to get exactly what she wanted from the grocery store. Her hand slid down over her belly. She missed her doctor, his gravelly voice telling her everything would be all right.
Her sigh was loud in the quiet room. She reached for the cards and started to shuffle. As the cards moved from hand to hand, her mind worked. They would have to scout the town, find a good escape point. Then she and Dylan needed to somehow get inside, find Ryan and get him out. Without getting caught or killed in the process. She shook her head as she riffled the cards.
Mick stirred at the sound, his arm searching the sleeping bag. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he opened his eyes, lifting his head off the floor. “Sarah?” He whispered.
“Sorry I woke you,” she answered. “Go back to sleep. Your watch isn’t for a few more hours.”
“Nah, I’m already up.” Mick sat up and stretched, letting out a huge yawn. He crawled from the sleeping bag and stood, scratching his back as he stepped around Becca. He headed into the powder room, reappearing in a few minutes, water beading in his hair, a few drops sprinkling his goatee. He pulled a foot stool next to Sarah’s chair and sat, leaning back against the wall. “How are you feeling? OK?”
Sarah nodded. “I’m fine. Just being nostalgic, thinking about the past.”
Mick smiled ruefully. “Not a good idea, especially in the middle of the night.”
Sarah shook her head. “Don’t I know it.”
“We just have to live for today, Sarah, the here and now.”
“We don’t have that option, Mick. Not anymore.”
“Things will work out, Sarah. You have to have faith.” She gave him a half smile. He took her hand in his. “About tomorrow…”
“Mick –” Sarah’s voice held a note of exasperation. She was too tired to have this conversation.
“No, I think you’re right. You’ll look less threatening if it’s just you and Dylan.” His thumb rubbed her hand. “I just wish I could be there, to watch out for you.”
Her lips curled into a soft smile. “I’ll be fine, Mick. Despite his flaws, I think underneath Dylan is a good guy. He’ll keep an eye on me.” She squeezed his hand. “Help me figure out how to do this.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
They spent the next couple of hours going over plans, discarding them, coming up with new ones. Every one of them depended on too many unknowns – how many people in town, how many exits in town, the people themselves – so they couldn’t come up with anything solid. A few ideas and a few thoughts were all that they managed. They would know more when they got back on the road. And it was just about that time.
Sarah pulled a can of crushed pineapple from Mick’s pack and a bag of cookies from hers. She split everything evenly onto four paper plates and was dismayed to see how scant the portions looked.
“Here.” Sarah looked up to see Becca holding a can of tomatoes in one hand while stifling a yawn with the other.
“Thanks, my favorite,” Sarah said with a sigh as she accepted the can.
“You’ll eat it,” Becca said as she walked to the powder room. Sarah shook her head as she opened the tomatoes and doled them out.
They ate their breakfast as Mick and Sarah outlined what they had discussed during the night. Dylan and Becca agreed that they needed more information before deciding on a plan. They packed up quickly, wanting to take advantage of the waning hours of night. The cover of darkness could only make surveillance easier.
Sarah opened the door and stepped outside. A groan reached her ears just a split second before the hand scrambled for her. She leaned back, the skeletal fingers just missing her cheek. A chorus of moans rang out in the night. She stepped backwards, closing the door. “Company out there,” she said. Damn! She thought. “My pipe is still in the Jeep.”
“How many did you see?” Mick asked, moving to the window and easing the curtain aside.
“Only one, but I heard more.” Sarah looked around the room for a weapon.
“Becca, did you bring your bat?” Mick asked, moving away from the window. He had seen at least half a dozen zombies stumbling to the porch.
“No, I grabbed the sleeping bags.” She held them in front of her.
“Dylan and I are the only ones with weapons. We’ll clear them out then you two can come out.” Mick nodded for Dylan to come to the door.
“I got one!” Sarah exclaimed. She pushed aside the debris on the floor to unearth a fireplace poker.
Mick sighed. “Fine, but you stay between us.” For once, Sarah didn’t argue. She didn’t feel quite as comfortable with the shorter weapon. “Becca, wait here. Close the door behind us and don’t come out until we call for you, OK?”
Becca nodded. A few months earlier, she would have been petrified. Now, after living through the last six months, she sat back down with a sigh and began to check her gear.
Mick took a deep breath and flung open the door. As soon as it opened, the creature that had reached for Sarah held its arms out to Mick, black gore oozing from its mouth. In one quick motion, Mick brought the bat up and caught it in the temple, stepping out of the doorway as he did. The zombie went down and he stepped over it, bounding down the porch steps.
Jesus, where did they come from? He thought as he surveyed nearly a dozen zombies circling the Jeep. He swung at the closest, a short fat one in overalls, its front crusted with black bile. Its head snapped sideways and it dropped like a stone. He took a step to the left to avoid a skinny female one, missing an arm but still reaching with the other.
The creature dropped and Mick saw Sarah in front of him, poker held in both hands as she pulled it from the zombie’s head. It made a sucking sound as it drew free of the rotten flesh. “I could have taken it,” he said.
Sarah grinned. “I know.” She moved away from Mick, the fireplace poker already swinging, an emaciated former man in a track suit dropping with one blow.
Between the three of them, the zombies were disposed of in just a few minutes. Mick called for Becca, watching as Sarah wiped the gore from her poker on a zombie’s coat. Dylan tapped his tire iron on the ground, chunks of bone and brain matter raining to the dirt. Becca came out, closing the door behind her. “Where’d they come from?” She asked, walking down the porch steps.
Mick shrugged, cleaning his bat on the closest corpse. “All it takes is one. The rest follow.”
“They probably smelled the fire,” Dylan said, opening the Jeep.
“Or heard your girlie scream last night,” Sarah countered with a grin.
“Ha Ha.” Dylan climbed into the Jeep. “Can we get a move on?”
A rumble of thunder passed overhead. Mick and Sarah looked up. “Shit,” Mick said.
“Yeah, shit. We better get.” Sarah opened the back door, threw the poker on the floor as she slid into the seat. Becca trotted to the Jeep, flinging the bags over the rear seat into the cargo area, and getting in, softly closing her door.
The rain started in earnest as they pulled onto the road. Lightning flashed, the rumble of thunder not far behind.
“Damn it!” Dylan exclaimed. “This is gonna screw up everything.”
“Actually, it’s probably working in our favor,” Sarah said, peering out the window. There was nothing to see but rain.
“How so?”
“Sound carries. The storm will hide the sound of the Jeep.”
Dylan nodded. “I’ll give you that. But how do you feel about walking in this shi
t?”
Sarah snorted. “Didn’t think of that. Do we have any rain gear at all?”
“I don’t think so,” Becca said. “Could we find some?”
“These houses have probably all been looted. We could try, though.” Mick slowed down. A river of mud and water was flowing across the road. He eased through the flood, not accelerating until he was well past.
“We shouldn’t take too much time.” Sarah stretched her legs out. “I’d like to see Sugar Creek while it’s dark, when they’ll be less likely to see us.”
“I think the rain has us covered,” Dylan remarked.
They drove on through the gloom, the rain pounding on the roof, lighting flashing across the sky, thunder rattling the windows. They made one stop to look for rain gear, but found none. They did end up with a couple tins of sardines and a hooded sweatshirt for Sarah. Groans from a locked room stopped them from searching further.
Back on the road, Dylan took over driving. The thunder and lightning stopped as they entered a one stoplight town, the stores that weren’t boarded up before the apocalypse looted, windows shattered, debris on the wind. At the end of the line of stores, they had to stop. The road was completely blocked from building to building.
Cars, buses, trucks, all manner of vehicles were stacked atop each other, two and three deep. No vehicle could get through and it would take some careful climbing for anyone on foot to cross.
“Now what?” Dylan asked, putting the Jeep in park.
“According to that sign back there, Sugar Creek’s about five miles down the road,” Mick said, turning in his seat.
“Shit.” Sarah stared through the sheets of rain. “We’re not getting any closer, are we?”
“Not without getting wet,” Mick answered.
“I wanted to scout the place out before we went inside.”
“We could backtrack, come around from the other side,” Becca said.
Sarah shook her head. “It’ll probably be blocked on the other side and we’ll lose a couple days.” She sighed. “Guess we go in blind.”
“No.” Mick turned completely in his seat, eyes on Sarah. “You’re not going in there without some kind of plan.”
