Dorm Life

by Camille Picott

  “Someone hurt them.” Kate crouches beside the dead girls, eyes blazing as she inspects them.

  At first, I don’t see what she sees. Then I see the blood on the inside of their thighs. The torn panties matted in the thick pool of blood. The deep tears in their abdomens.

  This violence wasn’t from zombies.

  The source of the shit and piss aroma becomes apparent. Someone defecated on the bodies of the girls. No way to know if that was done before or after they were killed.

  Carter toes at something in the blood. A key fob. “They were from College Creek dorm. Those are the only dorms on campus with fobs instead of regular keys.”

  We look at each other. I know we’re all thinking of the guys we met in the Depot from College Creek.

  “I didn’t like those guys,” Carter says. “I knew they were bad news.”

  It’s impossible to imagine hurting another human being the way these girls have been hurt. But for some reason, it’s not a stretch to imagine those guys inflicting this kind of pain.

  Kate rises. “We need to go to College Creek.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Johnny asks. He takes several steps back when she glares. “I mean, it’s probably good story fodder, but is it safe? If those guys are the ones who did this—”

  “If those guys are the ones who hurt these girls, we need to know,” Kate says. “There could be others who need our help. We have to check it out and put a stop to it.”

  It’s the right thing to do. I know it on a deep, humanitarian level. But all I want to do is look for books. I want to read about farming, and hydroponics, and preserving food. I don’t want to head into the part of campus hit hardest by the plague to look for boys I’d just as soon never see again.

  “It’s getting late,” Carter says. “Look, Mom, I get it. If people need help, we should help. But we shouldn’t get stuck on the other side of campus after dark.”

  Kate hesitates. I see the fire burning behind her eyes, the anger over the dead girls. It’s as scary as it is inspiring.

  “Tomorrow,” she says, voice clipped. “Let’s find the books we need and get out of here.”

  36

  Late Night Chat

  KATE

  I can’t shake the image of the dead girls from my head. Their desecrated corpses. The blood of their deaths and their rapes.

  We’ve known we’re not alone in Arcata. We’ve seen evidence of that firsthand. Hell, Carter has been held at gunpoint twice.

  But even that pales when I think of the girls. What if there are other girls like them out there? I can’t sit by and do nothing.

  I toss and turn, unable to sleep. I wish I could scrub today from my brain.

  I fumble for the flashlight and rise. An hour or two in the stairwell will help me sleep. I shine the light around, searching for my shoes.

  The beam glances off the kitchen table, illuminating the black rectangle of Johnny’s ham radio. I cross the room and plop in front of it, resting my forehead in my hands. I wonder if I could talk to someone. It would be so nice to talk to another adult. I can’t dump my fears on Carter or any of the other kids, but a stranger is another story.

  I flip on the radio, turning the dial experimentally. “Hello, anyone there?” I ask.

  Static answers me. I try a few more times but reach no one.

  I notice a scrap of paper taped to the top of the ham. There are numbers on the scrap, and next to the numbers, names.

  Foot Soldier. Alvarez’s name leaps out at me, a barely legible pencil smudge in the dark.

  Not really expecting to get a response, I turn the dial to the corresponding channel. “Hello? Foot Soldier, are you there? It’s Kate.”

  As expected, I get nothing. I let out an exasperated huff. It’s the middle of the night. Normal people are asleep right now.

  I need my stairwell.

  As I retrieve my shoes from underneath the table, I hear a crunch of static.

  “Kate? It’s Foot Soldier. Over.”

  I snatch up the ham receiver. “Hello? Alvarez?”

  “Hey, Kate. What are you doing up? Over.”

  Now that I have him on the other end, I feel self-conscious for reaching out. “I can’t sleep. Today I saw something and ... and it wasn’t pretty.”

  I know I’m supposed to use official language like over and roger, but I don’t have the energy. On top of that, I don’t really know the etiquette like Johnny does.

  “I feel you,” comes Alvarez’s reply. “There’s a lot of messed up shit out there. What was it?”

  A knot of tension builds in my chest. “Are you sure you wanna hear? It’s awful.”

  A long pause. “On my way to Fort Ross, I took shelter in a campground during a storm. I found an abandoned tent and crawled inside to wait out the rain. When I left the next morning, I realized the tent wasn’t there because the owners had left in a rush.” Emotion tinges his voice. “The owners had hung themselves. A couple. They shot their three kids then hung themselves.”

  I press the heel of my hand into my forehead. God, things are so fucked up.

  “I understand, Kate,” Alvarez says. “I really do.”

  Slowly, haltingly, I relate the horror of today. What started out as a simple mission to find some research books turned into a nightmare.

  “We found the books,” I finish. A dry, bitter laugh climbs out of my throat. Tears press against the back of my eyes. “Jenna is going to read up on gardening and put together some bullet points for you.”

  “That’s nice of her,” Alvarez says. “Kate, I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s fucked up.”

  “I don’t think fucked up begins to cover it.”

  “Yeah, I know. There are no words. Not really.” A long pause. “You know that whoever hurt those girls is out there, right?”

  “I know. Damn it, I know. I feel like we should have surveillance cameras and private security, you know? But we can’t get any of that shit.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Sort of. It involves going to the place where I think the bad guys are holed up.”

  “Uh, okay. And then what?”

  And then what? I haven’t let myself think that far along. “I just keep thinking there might be more girls like the ones we found. What if they have them chained to a bed or locked in a closet or something?”

  “I think,” Alvarez says, “that you need to take a few steps back, Kate. There are people out there who raped and murdered those girls. Stop for a minute and swallow that. What are you going to do if you come up against them? Do you have a gun?”

  My stomach turns. I feel like an idiot. I convinced myself there are more girls out there that need rescuing. Maybe I’m the one who needs rescuing. From myself.

  “We have two guns.” I don’t explain how we came to be in possession of them.

  “If you decide to track them down, you do it because you need to clean house. Don’t get caught up worrying about victims that may or may not exist.”

  He’s right. I feel myself hardening as I realize what tomorrow might have in store. Because I am going to College Creek tomorrow.

  “Kate? You still there?”

  “I’m here. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime. Will you radio me tomorrow? I want to know you guys are okay. I sleep better at night knowing there are good people still out there.”

  I nod before I remember he can’t see me. “Yeah, I’ll radio. I’m going to try to sleep now.” My eyes feel heavy. The talk really did help. “Good night, Foot Soldier.”

  “Goodnight, Kate.”

  37

  College Creek

  JENNA

  I feel my body evolving.

  The first few days of Kate’s workout left me so sore it was difficult to get out of bed. And if I felt sore and achy, I can only imagine how bad everyone else felt, especially the guys like Eric and Reed who made the act of being a couch potato into an art form.

  Kate promised us it would get easier.
She was right. We’re only two weeks into our workout routine, but already I feel stronger. In the beginning, twenty minutes of running with the weighted packs made me want to roll on the floor and pass out. Now, after forty minutes, I feel like I can easily do more.

  I’m grateful for the newfound strength. It might very well come in handy today. In less than an hour, we’re headed to College Creek. I dread the outing.

  The timer dings. Carter and I head down to the first floor for our last interval. Thank God Kate got rid of the bodies after the first day and replaced them with various pieces of furniture. The vending machine is a bit hard to get over, but I’ll take it over a rotting body any day.

  “I’ve been thinking more about security,” Carter says as we begin our exercises. We can converse during our workouts now, something that hadn’t been possible in the beginning.

  “How so?” I ask.

  “I think we should see if we can find the keys for some of the other dorm rooms so we can lock them.”

  I don’t relish the thought of going through the dead bodies to find keys. “Why?” I ask. “To lock up our supplies?”

  “Exactly. We need to start taking more precautions.”

  How far my boyfriend has come. From denying the apocalypse to chief security planner for our group.

  “If you want to go through bodies and look for keys, I’ll help you,” I say. “But you have to find me a pair of rubber gloves. And a surgical mask.”

  “Deal, babe.”

  “We’re leaving soon,” Kate calls, poking her head in through the stairwell door. “The whole gang has decided to come. Except for Lila, of course.”

  A short time later, we’re in clean clothes pulled from a neighboring dorm—one of these days, Eric is going to get the solar panel installed for the washing machine—with weapons on our belts. I lace up a pair of sturdy hiking boots. Kate, I notice, puts on her running shoes. When she isn’t barefoot in the dorm, she wears her running shoes.

  I want my ankles protected even if it means I’ll run slower. College Creek borders the big playing field on the southern side of campus where several hundred zombies are corralled. They’re trapped inside the wrought iron fence that surrounds the field. I’m not sure why the military didn’t wipe them out like they did other large bodies of infected.

  I don’t even want to go to College Creek. It’s not the wisest way we could spend our day, although I have to credit Kate for wanting to make sure no one out there needs help.

  Where Kate goes, Carter goes. Where Carter and Kate go, I go.

  Today, there’s no banter as we make our way through campus. A light rain falls.

  I scan the Depot warily as we pass by, looking for signs of Ryan or the other College Creek kids. I do the same at the library. Both buildings stare back at us in blank-faced silence.

  The next time we come this way, I vow to get the dead soldier off the tree. For some reason, looking at his body is more disturbing than all the other bodies.

  “Hold up.” Carter raises a hand to halt us. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

  Adrenaline pumps through my body, making my breathing rapid and harsh. I hold my breath and strain my ears.

  “Zombies,” Kate says.

  Sure enough, a murmur of moans peppers the air.

  “Where are they coming from?” Johnny asks.

  “South?” Carter asks.

  We inch together to form a tight cluster. The longer I listen, the more moans I hear. There are a lot of zombies out there.

  “South,” I agree after a few minutes. “Could it be the ones in the field?”

  “Seems most likely,” Kate says. “We move slow and cautious. If we spot trouble, we turn back around.”

  Now that’s a plan.

  We slip through campus, creeping along between the buildings and drawing ever closer to College Creek. I take out my weapons, the skin along the back of my neck itching with nerves.

  “Am I the only one who feels like this part of campus is different?” Eric asks.

  “No,” I agree, “it’s different.” And it’s not just the bodies we see everywhere. The backdrop of all the moaning makes it impossible to forget we risk our lives with every step we take.

  “There.” Carter points to a three-story building that comes into sight as we round a corner. “College Creek.”

  College Creek apartments are the newest dorms on campus. They were the nice, more expensive dorms. Kids who wanted a room to themselves generally lived in College Creek, where each suite boasted three single rooms.

  Carter, on student loans, chose the older, more affordable housing. I took one look at the pretty stucco buildings and knew I didn’t want to live in them. They reminded me too much of my high school in Southern California. I came to Humboldt to get away from those memories. Even though my cosmetic surgeon father offered to pay for more expensive lodging, I picked Creekside. And since I met Carter there, I know it was the right decision.

  I’m doubly grateful when my eyes take in the charred half of College Creek. Fire took the rooms on the right-hand side of the long building. The part still standing is stained with soot. I see a few partially burned bodies on the ground.

  I shiver, inching closer to Carter.

  “This way.” To my shock, Kate draws a handgun. She’d hidden it in the waistband of her pants and covered it with her shirt. It’s one of the guns she took from Mr. Rosario’s people.

  “Mom, what’s that for?” Carter asks.

  “Just in case.” Kate pauses, her gaze sweeping over us. “You guys can stay here if you want. I’ll check it out and let you know if it’s clear.”

  “No way,” Carter says. The rest of us echo his protest.

  She gives us a tight nod before heading toward College Creek. “Have your weapons out,” she tells us. “Be ready for anything.”

  College Creek is rectangular. In the center of the building is a big courtyard with seating areas and tables. Where once we would have seen kids hanging out or doing homework, we now see bodies. Lots of them.

  Bullet casings glint in the dull light and crunch underfoot. Vultures study us with their beady eyes. When they determine we aren’t here to take their food, they go back to their feasting.

  The moaning is louder here in the courtyard. Legs tense, ready to run if necessary, I scan the surrounding area. Where are all the zombies?

  “They’re on the other side of the fence. Look.” Carter raises a hand, pointing with his knife.

  I follow the line of his hand. Across the courtyard are two breezeways that lead onto the playing field.

  That’s where the zombies are. The wrought iron gates erected in front of the breezeways effectively cut the zombies off from the rest of the campus.

  “That looks like a disaster waiting to happen,” Johnny hisses, staring at the zombies milling on the other side of the fence. “Horror story disaster. It’s like the smoking gun on the mantle.”

  “What smoking gun?” Reed asks.

  “It’s a figure of speech,” Johnny says.

  “He means they could smash through that fence if they mob it,” I explain. “And then we’d be screwed because the whole campus would be overrun.” I feel even less safe than I did a few minutes ago, and I haven’t felt safe since we made the decision to come here.

  “We stay away from the fence and don’t incite them,” Kate replies. “Come on.”

  “You haven’t seen enough?” Johnny asks.

  “Far from it.” Kate gestures with her chin.

  I look across the courtyard to where she indicates.

  “Fuck me,” Carter murmurs.

  I bump up against him as he grinds to a halt. There, nailed to a door with knives, is another dead soldier. His body is pierced with two long knives through the shoulder blades, just like the one at the Depot. His throat is slit, a dried river of blood running down the front of his fatigues.

  38

  Death

  KATE

  The gore doesn’t stop at the
dead soldier. Scattered around him are half a dozen bodies of college kids. Like the girls we found in the library, these are newly dead. The rain has streaked the blood, turning it into red swirling patterns that fan out around the bodies. Their clothes are wet and wrinkled from exposure to the constant rain.

  Blood pounds in my ears as I take in the death. I’m too late. The words flash through my mind. Some part of me knows these are the kids I wanted to save. They were slaughtered by whoever it was that murdered the girls in the library.

  “Uh, Mom? I think we should go home now.”

  I turn to look at Carter and the others. Bringing them here was a mistake. I should have come alone.

  “Those College Creek kids you met in the Depot,” I say. “Do you guys remember what they look like?”

  “I do,” Jenna says. Carter nods.

  “Do you see any of them here?” I gesture to the bodies.

  They inch forward, Eric and Johnny with them. Several of the dead lay facedown. Using my foot, I turn them over so we can get a good look at them.

  There’s a fat boy, a skinny boy, and another kid covered with acne. The rest of the dead are all girls. I count eight altogether.

  My eyes sweep to the dead soldier nailed to the door. He’s older, with gray stubble and the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. A veteran of probably more than one war, and yet someone got the drop on him.

  “I don’t see Ryan or the others,” Carter says.

  “You think they did this?” Jenna whispers.

  “They mutilated those zombies in the Depot,” Eric says.

  While I agree that mutilating zombies takes a special person, I don’t think that necessarily means they’re the ones who killed all these kids. For one thing, these kids look like they were killed with two shots, one in the head and one in the chest. Average college kids aren’t such good shots.