by Tracey Ward
“This is what it’s going to be like,” I say quietly, my heart in my throat at the sight of so many infected again. “Any pockets of humanity they can find, they will swarm. They will devour it. This is what comes of teaming up with other people. You practically call them to you.”
Syd drives slowly in silence, digesting that. I hope he’s listening because if they choose to join with a group, I’m probably not going with them. I gave Alissa walls, I looted when she asked, but there are limits to how far I will stretch on the rules. I will not die to see her happy.
The infected bounce and bump off the sides of the RV, blissfully unaware of our presence inside. They haven’t smelled or spotted us yet. Their brains are so far melted and gone that they can’t remember a car means people. We’re just another building to shamble past. We’re lucky in that respect. They’re mindlessness means blind determination combined with the total absence of fear or pain response, but it also means they’re just plain stupid. It’s a lucky break in this complete and utter shitstorm we’re living in.
“What do we do?” Syd finally asks solemnly. I notice his knuckles are white on the wheel.
“We keep rolling nice and slow. Windows stay up, no sudden movements inside, no loud noises. They’ll never know we were here,” I tell him calmly, my voice low and even. I wonder if they’re buying it or can they hear my heart hammering in my chest?
We all sit perfectly still, exquisitely silent as the RV presses through the throng. Alissa is pressed against my side, her arm running the length of mine. I can feel her jump every time there’s a bang or bump against the outside of the vehicle. I look at her slowly as I reach over to gently link my pinky finger with hers where it sits on her thigh. When she smiles at me it’s tight and strained but she stops jumping.
It takes us almost ten minutes to go half a mile. That’s walking speed, though there’s no way in hell I’d get out and walk that distance right now. It’s still grueling and it still hurts to be moving that slowly surrounded by that many zombies. By the time we clear the edges of the swarm, my palms are sweating and my pinky hurts from where Alissa is squeezing it around hers.
“Well that was fun,” she mutters, releasing me and rubbing her hands over her jeans to clear the sweat.
I reach for the map. “It will get worse before it gets better. A lot of towns are going to be like that so close to civilization. Once we cross the river it won’t be so bad. They’ll bottle neck on the bridges or try to cross the water and get swept away.”
“Swept away where? They’ll still end up somewhere inside the quarantine zone.”
“Yeah, but they’ll be more spread out. It’ll help thin the herd. Think about it, what’s better? Fifty infected coming at you at all at once in a huge group like back there? Or one to two every now and then spread out over time?”
“You mean over eternity.”
I haven’t thought about it in those terms, not really, but she’s right. We have to see it that way. We have to acknowledge that this is how it is now. And it sucks.
“Yeah,” I agree, nodding my head. “Forever.”
“I still think they could find a cure,” she replies adamantly. I don’t know if it’s stubbornness or hope. She’s loaded with both. “They would have just fire bombed us all by now if they weren’t going to bother trying to save us, right?”
“Would you be behind the President, Congress or the Senate if they voted to bomb an entire section of our own country, killing thousands of American citizens?” Syd asks.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, whatever keeps them from killing us, I guess.”
“For now,” I mumble.
“What?”
I should have kept my mouth shut. I don’t want to kill her hope if she actually has it, but I won’t lie to her either. I’m not going to treat her like she can’t handle it, not when I know she can.
“It’s early,” I say reluctantly. “Give it time. Wait until the doctors and scientists go on TV to say there is no cure. Then what? People on the inside like us are still going to live despite the infected. Babies are going to be born, it’s going to happen, and the population here will never die out completely on its own. Meanwhile, we’re no longer contributing to the country as a whole. How much money and how many resources will be spent containing us? The military presence along the quarantine borders alone is probably huge. There will be drones monitoring the perimeter. They’re probably watching the area with satellites. The coast is being guarded by the US, Japan and Russia. How long can that go on? Not forever. Eventually, people on the outside are going to get tired of funding all this and they’re going to start coming to terms with an absolution.”
Alissa stares at me for a long time, her face blank. Then she sighs as she moves to sit up front with Syd.
“This is depressing,” she grumbles.
“Apocalypses generally are.”
Chapter Five
“Stop!”
Syd slams on the breaks. We all fly forward in the cab, me more than them since I’m seatbeltless. My face nearly connects with the console but it’s my own dumb fault. I’m the fool who yelled.
“What?” Syd demands. His voice is tight, his eyes roving our surroundings for the threat.
We’re passing through a small town with a surprisingly large grocery store just off the main road. There aren’t a lot of people here and minimal infected, as far as I can see. There are cars whizzing by at dangerous speeds, most heading south into the thick of the fray. I only count four cars in the parking lot of this store. The windows are already busted out, the automatic doors jammed open.
“We need to loot.”
“What? No, we need to run.”
“To the mountains where’s there nothing?”
He shakes his head. “We’ll survive. Al and I know how to live in the woods for a while.”
“How long is a while?” I challenge him.
“Not forever,” Alissa mumbles.
“Exactly. We don’t know how long we’ll be in hiding. We need supplies.”
“Like what?” Syd asks.
“Bottled water, non-perishables, canned goods, first aid supplies,” I rattle off.
Syd scowls at me, then at the building. “There are people in there.”
“Smart people who propped the door open and bashed the windows out,” I point out. “People looking to have an exit. My kind of people.”
“You aren’t worried you’re kind will shoot us over a bunch of Evian?” Alissa asks me skeptically.
I shrug. “They were here first. We won’t challenge them. We’ll make it clear we’re not here for a fight, just for supplies.”
“It’s risky,” Syd complains. He looks toward the road leading north, empty and inviting.
“We need this,” I insist. “Who knows what we’ll find later? The towns will get smaller, the resources scarcer. This is our chance.”
Syd debates the decision for a long time. Longer than I’d like. It’s the Highway 34 crossing all over again which makes my blood boil in my veins. Finally he pulls the RV slowly into the parking lot, turning us around sharply so we’re facing the exit. If we need to bail quickly we can be on the road again in seconds.
“Al stays with the vehicle,” he says, cutting the engine.
“Quit trying to leave me behind,” she tells him sharply. “I’m going in.”
“You’re staying here.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing more than you do.”
“I could go in alone.” I suggest.
I really would rather not, but I definitely want to get this done quickly and their arguing could take forever. I also don’t care to roll into a possibly delicate situation with Syd. I have no idea what he’ll do in there. He could easily get us both killed. At least if Ali goes in with me I know she’ll keep her cool. She played it perfectly when we first arrived at the sporting goods store, and honestly, I’d like to take her in here and see he
r do it again. Sexist or not, having a female with me softens my appearance. It makes me less of a threat and I’m less likely to get shot on sight.
“You’re not going in alone,” Alissa says firmly.
She opens her door to jump out.
“Alissa Marie, you are staying in this car,” Syd commands, pulling out the big guns with the middle name. He means business.
“Jordan, run!”
Alissa leaps from the RV. She’s already running toward the store entrance without a single look back when Syd turns to look at me with murder in his eyes.
“You get her bac—“
I don’t stay to listen. I’m more concerned with Alissa entering this store alone than I am with whatever it is he has to say. It’s all getting old anyway.
I run from the RV with Syd shouting incoherently behind me but I’m not listening. I’m focused on the store in front of me. On the girl running full tilt toward danger. On the blood pumping through my veins as I chase down the long dark hair flying wild in the wind. On the weightless wonder of being out of that RV, away from everyone else and hell bent on diving into this mess headfirst.
Alissa slows to a halt when we reach the doorway. She waits for me with a grin on her face that I don’t think she’s aware of. I feel like less of a freak because I can see it in that grin, in her eyes. Part of her is enjoying this too.
“How do you want to do this?” she asks quietly.
“Let’s go in slow with weapons lowered. Don’t raise them unless you see an infected. We’ll call out, let them know we’re here.”
She nods in agreement. “I’ll follow your lead.”
We walk in side by side, nice and slow. The place is absolutely trashed with shelves knocked over and packages all over the floor. Blood is everywhere near the registers. I think there was an outbreak here before the looting started. While all of the blood from infected is dark, new or old, this stuff looks dry.
“Jordan,” Alissa whispers, nudging me.
There’s a pallet at the end of an aisle loaded with goods. I hear hushed voices coming from that direction accompanied by the rustle of bags and boxes. They’re clearing the shelves.
“Come on.”
I lead Ali toward the main aisle so we’re standing out in the open. We both glance around quickly, scanning for infected. Nothing.
“Hello!” I call out.
The rustling in the aisle stops. I count to five, ready to shout again, when the voices pick up. They’re still speaking quietly but they’re frantic now. Upset. Scared.
“There’s only two of us!” I call to them again. “And we’re barely armed. Just enough to fend off any infected. We don’t want any trouble.”
There’s a long silence. Seven seconds.
“What do you want?” a female voice calls back.
I glance to Alissa. She nods in understanding.
“Same as you,” she responds calmly. “To find supplies. That’s it.”
More muffled speaking from down the aisle. It’s becoming less frantic. More of a discussion.
“We have guns!”
I sigh deeply. I’m not sure if that’s a threat to get us to leave or a threat for us to be good while we’re here.
“We don’t wa—“
“So do we!” Alissa cuts me off. “But I’d rather keep it holstered, get my Chex mix and get out of here. Wouldn’t you?”
More silence. I hear the rustling of plastic, the undeniable sound of a junk food bag, and suddenly something comes flying over the stop of the aisle. It lands a few feet ahead of us, skids across the worn linoleum and comes to rest near our feet.
It’s a bag of Chex Mix.
I look to Alissa with raised eyebrows. She smiles at me.
“Keep clear of us and we won’t have any trouble!” a young man, probably no more than thirteen, calls out to us. Someone shushes his angrily. It’s the kind of shush only a mom can give and it reminds me of Syd using Alissa’s middle name.
“We’ll stay clear!” I promise. “Thank you!”
Alissa grabs us a cart that we wheel to the other end of the store. We load up on medical goods, both of us wordlessly agreeing to leave a portion behind for the family down that aisle. We gather soaps, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, toothpaste. I toss toothbrushes in the cart, first a few then more and more. And more. Alissa eventually notices. She gives me a stern look broken by her smile. I toss two more in. She quickly grabs one from the cart and throws it in my face. I calmly pick it up off the floor and toss it back in the cart.
“Jackass.”
“I’m only trying to help,” I tell her innocently.
“Help what? Keep gingivitis at bay?”
“Help you keep fresh breath. It’s become more important to me recently.”
“Really? Are you saying you wouldn’t want to kiss me with morning breath?”
I look at her seriously. “Ali, I’d kiss you with morning breath, no question.” I take a step around the cart, closing in on her. “I’d kiss you with morning breath after a night binging on garlic bread.”
“Ooh, we should see if there’s any garlic bread,” she whispers excitedly.
I take another step toward her. “I’d kiss you with morning breath after a night binging on garlic bread and drinking PBR.”
She grins as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. “This is getting elaborate. And unrealistic. I’d never drink PBR.”
“What would you drink?” I ask, my arms going around her waist. The feel of her in my arms with no eyes to see it, to hate it or wish me dead for it, is amazing. I’d stay here all day like this if I could. Let Syd sit outside to stew in that RV.
“Corona.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Light?”
She leans in close until her breath is on my face. Until her lips are nearly touching mine.
“Extra.”
I groan, pulling her body tighter to mine. “A woman after my own heart. With lime?”
She grins wickedly. “Only pussies need it with lime.”
My responding laugh is cut short by the sound of crashing from up front. Alissa freezes in my arms, both of us tensing as we listen. Loud voices call out, none of them the family we encountered and none of them friendly either. Ali and I break apart, both of us pulling out our weapons quickly. She’s bypassing the bow and going straight for the gun. I’ve got my bat but she stares at me long and hard. I know what she’s thinking. It’s not infected. Infected don’t speak. They don’t shout. They also don’t let you get in close enough to beat them with a bat before putting a bullet in you.
Reluctantly, I stow my bat and pull out my pistol.
We make our way down the aisle slowly, careful to stay close the shelves. There’s more shouting, more crashing. I wonder if the people who just came in know the family is here or are they making this much noise simply because they can? It’s not long before I get my answer.
“Stop!” the familiar voice of the woman cries out. It’s not the same tone she used with us. She’s not just cautious. She’s panicked.
“Put the gun down,” a male drawls in annoyance.
“We don’t want any trouble. Just leave us be.”
“We will, we will.”
“We’re grateful,” another woman responds, her tone lazy like the man’s. “You packed up this pallet of food for us so nicely. Thank you.”
“That’s ours!” the kid’s voice cries out.
“Evan, stop! No. Let them have it,” his mother tells him.
“No, it’s ours.”
“No,” the man counters, “it’s ours.”
“Fine, it’s yours,” the mother agrees angrily. “Now let us pass. We’ll leave quietly, no trouble.”
“Is that your RV out there?” the woman asks her.
“No.”
“I’d peg them for the minivan,” the man says. “Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a nice van. Big too. Plenty of room for this food.”
“See, we came here on a bike. A hog. No room for food on that.”
Still no answer.
“We sure could use a van like yours to carry all the supplies you’ve packed up for us.”
I hear the jingle of keys, the protests of the young boy.
“Well now, that’s very helpful of you but we need someone to drive the van. See, we’re taking that RV outside too and we don’t have enough bodies to drive all of these vehicles. The, uh,” The man’s voice changes. He’s moving around, probably looking down aisles. “The driver’s of the RV. Are they in here with you?”
“We’re alone,” the mother answers immediately.
“Oh no,” he says sadly.
His tone sets the hair on my neck up on end. I risk a peak around the end of the aisle in time to see him, tall and broad, clad entirely in black. He comes to stand in front of the mother. She’s pushed her son behind her to protect him but he’s trying to get away. To stand in front of her to protect her.
“I don’t like being lied to,” the man tells her darkly. “And you just lied to me, didn’t you?”
Again, she doesn’t answer but she doesn’t back down either.
The man shakes his head. Then he whips out a black pistol and brings it up to her face.
“No!” the boy shouts from behind her.
I jump into the main aisle, drawing my gun on the man. I hear Alissa rush out behind me and I’m sure she’s drawn her weapon as well. We’re fast, but we’re not fast enough. No one is faster than a bullet. Than evil on the trigger of a gun.
The gun fires. The young, brown haired woman explodes into nothing. Her body crumples to the floor just as I let loose a shot that flies wide. It hits a box of cereal on an endcap near the boy. Corn puffs and marshmallows spray everywhere. The sound of Alissa’s gun firing beside me rings in my ears. The guy grunts and grabs his shoulder. She’s winged him. I move my terrible aim to the woman, but she’s already down on the ground behind a shelf.
“Get behind cover!” Alissa shouts at me.
