Dorm Life

by Camille Picott

  “Fine,” I say, moving to block Johnson’s view of Lila. “We’ll have your tithe.”

  Carter shifts behind me. I sense his rising argument. I give him my most severe mom look. The one reserved for lies, missed curfews, and bad grades. And, apparently, for telling my son to back down when there are men holding us at gunpoint.

  Carter snaps his mouth closed and keeps quiet.

  “We’ll be back in a week,” Johnson drawls. “Make sure you have enough supplies to fill our crates.” The last look he casts at Lila is a warning. “Come on, brothers. We’re done here for the night.”

  Johnson and his lackeys file out. Roberts flashes me an apologetic grimace before he slips out last. He, at least, doesn’t agree with what Johnson is doing.

  As soon as the last soldier is out, I slam the door and lock it. I spin around, looking at my ashen-faced kids. Lila bursts into tears, crying quietly into her knees as she huddles against the wall. Jenna hurries to her side and slips an arm around her shoulders. Eric joins her, flanking Lila on the other side.

  “How did they get through our front door?” I ask.

  “They were lying in wait,” Jenna says. “Carter and I went outside to get water, and they pounced on us. Held us at gunpoint and forced us back inside.”

  I close my eyes, struggling to tamp down my rage.

  “What are we going to do?” Eric asks. “We can’t just hand over a shitload of stuff every week.”

  Even though I agree with Eric, I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say that won’t make the situation worse.

  “Do you by any chance have a tip for dealing with bad guys in that Thrive book you’re writing?” Carter asks.

  Johnny shakes his head. “No. But I bet this is the group that College Creek gunman warned us about. I guess he didn’t take care of them like he said he was going to.

  He’s probably dead, I think.

  One thing is certain. This arrangement with Johnson can only go one direction. Down. He’ll demand more and more of us over time. Eventually, he’ll take everything. Possibly even kill us, or worse.

  Being under Johnson’s thumb is bad. Very bad.

  41

  Hazing

  KATE

  I don’t have a solid plan in my head when I retrieve the gun from under the sofa. I slide it into the back waistband of my pants.

  When I slip outside after Johnson and the others—leaving the kids to argue about how we’re going to scavenge enough food to keep Johnson’s crew off our backs—all I know is that I need to find him. I want to know where that motherfucker sleeps.

  Once outside, it’s easy to find Johnson and his lackeys. They make enough noise to draw the dead. Literally.

  It’s dusk. There are no streetlights anymore, making it easy to find concealment as I tail them. I hug the side of the road, taking cover behind the tall redwoods that grow along the street.

  Talking loudly, Johnson and the boys pass one of our bottles of booze between them.

  “Did you see the way those pussies ran around like mice?” says Ryan.

  “You did good work in there.” Johnson claps him on the shoulder. “They knew who was in charge.”

  “Incoming,” calls one of the soldiers.

  Three zombies stagger toward them, arms outspread as they grope their way forward. The group moves back toward the center of the road where there are no obstacles.

  “Let me waste these fuckers.” Another college kid draws his gun.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Henry,” Johnson snaps. “Gunfire just draws more of them. Use your knife.”

  “Cut his balls off,” says a third college kid.

  “Dude, Adam, you cut off his balls,” snaps Henry.

  Adam straightens. “Watch this.” Raising his knife, he advances on the three zombies. “Ryan,” he calls over his shoulder, “get the one on the right. I’ll take care of these two.”

  Ryan shrugs, passing the booze bottle to one of his companions. He draws a knife. Casually, he strolls forward and dispatches his assigned zombie with a blade through the head.

  “I want to see balls, Adam,” Johnson says.

  Adam cuts through the first zombie, letting the body fall to the ground with a thud. By the time his attention shifts to the remaining monster, the beast has zeroed in on him. Letting out a moan, it charges and knocks Adam to the ground.

  Roberts takes a step forward, but Johnson flings out a hand to stop him. “Let Adam show us what he’s made of.”

  Even in the dark, I see the strain in Roberts’s body as he watches the scene unfold. It’s clear he wants to help. I can’t say the same for the rest of the boys. They watch the scene with sick glee, grinning at one another as they pass the bottle between them.

  “Get that fucker,” cheers one of the boys.

  “Get his balls!” says another.

  Adam thrashes underneath the zombie, grunting as the creature snaps his teeth and goes for his throat. The boy manages to wedge one fist against the zombie’s chest and roll. The zombie crashes sideways. Adam’s knife finds its way into the beast’s temple.

  The boys break into applause. Someone hands Adam the bottle.

  “Not so fast,” Johnson says, snatching back the bottle. “Show us his balls, Adam.”

  Adam hesitates before turning back to the corpse.

  I look away. When the cheering of the boys starts again, I have no doubt that Adam has indeed produced zombie testicles.

  “Now you’re really one of us,” Johnson tells Adam.

  They continue down Granite Avenue, laughing and heckling one another. I wait until their voices become indistinct before following.

  A light rain starts to fall, soaking my clothes within minutes. Idiot. I should have thought to grab a jacket.

  I try to imagine Frederico here with me. Suck it up, buttercup, he’d say.

  The soldiers disappear into one of the frat houses at the end of the street. From the front, no one would be able to tell people are living inside. There’s no trash outside. The windows are blacked out.

  Johnson has done a good job disguising their occupation. I’ll give him credit for that, even as I shiver to think how close it is to Creekside. It’s dumb luck they didn’t find us before.

  I crouch behind decomposing bodies as the group clomps around to the back of the house. As soon as they’re out of sight, I hurry after them.

  The back of the house looks pretty much like you’d expect the yard of a frat house to look. Lots of lawn chairs and sofas, many of them faded from years of use. Multiple barbecues. At the back is a stage with lights. Trash is everywhere. Some of it is in bags, but most is loose. Most of it is discarded cans and food packaging.

  Kneeling in the darkness, I watch and listen. There isn’t much to be heard, but there is the occasional creak of floorboards or the sound of a raised voice.

  I steal closer, stepping onto the porch. A refrigerator sits next to the door, along with a collection of battered wooden chairs.

  The house is old, a relic from the early nineteen hundreds. The redwood, even after all these years, is solid beneath my feet. A few of the steps creak, which makes me pause in alarm, but no one inside notices.

  I press my ear against the back door. Inside comes the muffled sound of voices and music.

  They’re having a party. They extort us, terrorize us, and threaten us. Then throw a party.

  I understand the sickos we’re dealing with.

  Now I just have to figure out my next move.

  “FOOT SOLDIER, THIS is Kate. Are you there? Over.”

  I sit alone in the living room, staring at the cluttered kitchen table. By now, everyone has gone to bed. A blanket drapes across my shoulders as I hunch over the ham radio.

  “Foot Soldier? I know it’s the middle of the night. I’ve never been a great sleeper. Over.”

  No response.

  I think of Carter, see his frantic, worried eyes when I returned home a few hours ago.

  “Mom, where have you been?�
�� he demanded.

  “Out,” I replied, unsure how much I wanted to share.

  “Out where?”

  “Just ... out. I needed to think.”

  “You can’t go out alone,” he said. “It’s not safe. You see that, right?”

  My son. I love him so much. I care about all these kids. I need to figure out a way to keep them safe.

  Scenes from the day replay in my head. I see Johnson grinding himself against Lila. I see Johnson coercing Adam into a sick apocalyptic hazing ritual.

  We’ll be back in a week. Make sure you have enough supplies to fill our crates.

  How long will we be able to keep those crates filled? How long before they demand more? How long before Johnson just takes the other things he wants?

  “Kate, is that you? Over.”

  I close my eyes, raising the ham to my mouth. “Foot Soldier. Yeah. It’s me.”

  “What are you doing up? Over.”

  “We had a run-in with some bad guys today.”

  “What kind of bad guys?” Alvarez drops the official radio talk.

  “The kind you would expect in an apocalypse,” I reply, swallowing. “They’re bad people.”

  A long pause. “You can come here. You know you have an open invitation.”

  “I’ve looked at the maps. There’s no way to get to Fort Ross without backtracking down highway one-oh-one for a hundred miles. One-oh-one is a death trap.”

  Another long pause. “Then you have to work something out.”

  “I know.” My words come out a whisper. “It’s just ... I’m not coming up with anything that doesn’t involve murder.”

  My words float around me in the darkness, made real and tangible now that I’ve let them out of my mouth.

  “I’ve been where you are,” Alvarez says. “I know, Kate. I know. My journey to Fort Ross was ... hard.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Alvarez has made hard choices, too. Knowing this makes me feel not so alone.

  “But it wasn’t all bad,” Alvarez continues. “I met some good people. Some of them seemed like bad people at first, but they were just scared. Maybe your situation isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

  I can’t bring myself to describe Johnson with Lila, or the hazing incident with Adam. They aren’t pictures I want to paint.

  But not all the kids are dark. Roberts wasn’t like Johnson. Maybe there are others like Roberts.

  “Here’s something to consider,” Alvarez says. “Human beings are few and far between. We can use friends more than we can use enemies. Maybe you can find a middle ground with these guys.”

  “I don’t know. They held us at gunpoint.”

  “I held you at gunpoint when we first met.”

  That brings a smile to my face. I’d forgotten about that. “Actually, you tackled us to the ground. Then you held us at gunpoint.”

  “Whatever. My point is, look how it turned out for us. Don’t write these guys off because of one encounter.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” I ask. “I don’t think these guys are like you. I think ... I think they may have raped and killed.”

  A long stretch of silence follows this statement.

  “Are you sure?” he asks at length.

  “Mostly sure.”

  Alvarez lets out a long sigh. “If you’re right, you only have one choice. Survival can be shitty. Feel things out. You can do this, Kate.”

  “I hope so,” I whisper back. God, I hope so.

  42

  Assignments

  KATE

  “How’s Lila?” I ask when Jenna and Carter emerge the next morning.

  Jenna shakes her head. “She won’t look at us. She has her head covered up with the blankets.”

  The poor girl was borderline agoraphobic before our run-in with Johnson. No doubt that will be worse after last night.

  “I need you guys to scavenge today,” I tell Carter and Jenna, showing them the pieces of paper before me. Each is labeled with the name of the four other dorms in the complex where we live: Juniper, Fern, Laurel, and Willow.

  “These buildings need to be cleared and inventoried,” I say. “Start with Fern today. Clear the rooms. Make a list of everything you find, but don’t bring anything back here.”

  Carter takes the paper and pen from me. “This is for our tithe, isn’t it?”

  I nod, jaw clenched. “We don’t want to be caught without enough food to fill their bins, but I don’t want them to know how much we have. Do your workouts, then head to Fern. Oh, and one more thing. If you find a bottle of brandy, bring it back to me.”

  Johnny, Eric, and Reed wander out an hour later, rubbing at their eyes.

  “I have a job for you today,” I announce, not giving them a chance to flop onto the sofa or go for the food.

  “What sort of job?” Reed asks.

  “Clearance.” I hand them a sheet of paper with the name Willow written across the top. It’s another neighboring dorm. The boys get the same instructions I gave Jenna and Carter.

  “Clear out Willow. Make a list of everything you find that might be useful to us.”

  “But ...” Johnny frowns at me. “Is that the best use of our time? Shouldn’t we be packing up our stuff and leaving Creekside?”

  “Where are we going to go?” I ask him. “Traveling is more dangerous than staying here. And Creekside is our home. You guys cleared this place and made it safe. It’s fortified and well stocked. We’re not letting anyone take it away from us.”

  “Okaaay.” Johnny draws out the word, studying my face. “Whatever you say, Kate.”

  “Search for a bottle of brandy,” I say. “If you find one, bring it back.”

  “What about Lila?” Eric asks. His gaze drifts to her closed bedroom door.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” I say. “She’ll be okay.”

  In the end, Eric leaves with the others. When I finally have everyone out of the apartment, I poke my head into Lila’s room. She lays on her side in the bed, staring at the wall.

  “Lila?” I sit down next to her, resting one hand on her shoulder. “How are you doing?”

  She stares at the wall.

  “Lila? Can I get you anything?”

  She rolls over to look at me. Her almond eyes are puffy and unfocused. Her silky black hair is a messy halo around her face. “Do you know what it’s like to be average in a family of geniuses?”

  Her question catches me by surprise. “What?”

  “Do you know what it’s like to be average in a family of geniuses?”

  “No, I don’t. My family was pretty average.” What is she trying to tell me?

  “I’m the youngest of three sisters,” Lila replies. “My oldest sister got a full academic ride to U.C. Berkley. My middle sister got a tennis scholarship to Stanford. Guess where I got a scholarship to.”

  “Humboldt?”

  “Nowhere. I got a few dinky local scholarships, but nothing like my sisters. I was always the dull coin in the family. I was the one never mentioned to my aunties and uncles.

  “But I have a plan. I studied articles on the cannabis industry in Colorado when that state legalized it. I know the money that was made by the people who got their foot in the door early. Cannabis is going to be legalized in all the states in the next decade. When I graduate from this place with my degree in botany, I’m going to start my own business with medicinal cannabis. I’m going to make more money than both my sisters. I’m going to give my mom something to brag about.”

  I search Lila’s face. Her eyes are glassy, her skin pale. She hugs a pillow in her arms. She is dead serious.

  “I know you’ll make your mother proud,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.

  “I don’t care if she’s proud.” Lila rolls away to once again face the wall. “I just want her to brag about me to my aunties and uncles. And I want to drive a Tesla to a family reunion.”

  I stare at Lila’s back. She doesn’t say anything else. When I finally lean over her to check, I se
e she’s fallen asleep.

  The poor girl is cracking. I’ve seen the world chipping away at her day by day, but last night’s run-in with Johnson has traumatized her.

  I don’t know what to do. I’m no therapist.

  Alvarez’s words run through my head. Survival can be shitty.

  IT TAKES THE KIDS TWO days to clear Fern and Willow. They manage to find not one, not two, but three bottles of brandy. They’re all half empty, but that won’t matter for my purposes.

  “Now what?” Carter asks me. “Should we start gathering up the supplies and bringing them back here?”

  “Not yet. There are two more dorms to clear and inventory.” I hand out two more sheets of paper, one labeled Juniper and one labeled Laurel.

  “Wouldn’t it be better if we start transporting the food back here?” Jenna asks.

  “Not yet,” I say. “We need to focus on inventory and clearance.”

  “Do you need more brandy?” Reed asks.

  “Nope. These three bottles are all I need.”

  No one asks what I plan to do with them. They all remember Johnson likes brandy.

  “I guess you’re right,” Johnny says. “We have enough stuff for when those jerks come back. Though I’d feel better if the food were with us.”

  “Trust me on this,” I reply.

  “Come on, Carter.” Jenna takes his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Let’s go. The zombies won’t clear themselves.”

  After they leave, I take the list of Fern supplies and tuck it into my pocket.

  Next, I gather the three bottles of brandy. I carefully combine everything into a single bottle. When I’m finished, I have a single bottle of golden-brown liquid.

  Just what Johnson likes.

  On an errand, I scrawl on a scrap of paper, leaving it on top of the ham radio where they’re sure to see it. Be back later. Don’t come looking for me.

  I drop trail mix, a flashlight, and two bottles of water into a backpack. The last thing I put inside is the brandy, wrapping it in a towel to protect it. I take one of the guns from my hiding place under the sofa and stash it in my jacket pocket. Then I leave Creekside.