“We should check the back,” he whispered.
We crept further into the room. An acidly sweet smell filled my nose. A scent I’d encountered once before. I froze. It smelled like the bodies in front of our neighbours’ house.
Please don’t let it be Dad.
18 hours and 37 minutes since he’d gone missing.
67,020 seconds in the claws of Weepers.
A bang resounded through the warehouse and our surroundings were plunged into deeper darkness. I let out a cry. There was barely enough light to see Joshua, who stood right beside me.
We weren’t alone. Something had closed the door. My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. The pounding of my pulse seemed to fill the silence and my breath came in short gasps. Was this how Mom felt during one of her asthma attacks?
I felt for Joshua’s arm. He didn’t move, but his body was shaking. I wasn’t the only one who was scared. Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring.
Something was lurking in the darkness, stalking us. Ready to attack.
I aimed the pistol straight ahead and resisted the urge to sneak a peek over my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to see much anyway.
Joshua moved next to me, but I didn’t let go of his arm.
Gunshots rang out. I tried to cover my ears, releasing Joshua’s arm in the process.
The windows burst into pieces and sunlight streamed into the hall. I scrunched up my eyes against the brightness.
A scream tore itself from my throat. Raw and scared.
I shot.
Once. Twice. Three times.
There were at least three Weepers in the warehouse with us. Three that I’d seen. If they lived in the dark, their eyes were probably better than ours. Who knew how many more were hiding in the shadows of the tyres or crouching behind one of the piles? But however many there were, they were watching us.
Joshua shot again and screamed something I didn’t catch. My ears were ringing from the gunshots. Tears and sweat burned in my eyes. I couldn’t see Joshua anywhere. He had disappeared into the shadows.
This is the end. The thought kept repeating itself in my mind like a never-ending mantra.
The end.
From the corner of my eye I saw movement and whirled around. I shot until there weren’t any bullets left. I grabbed for the other gun in the back of my jeans, but my hands were sweaty and slipped off. Wheezing, I tried again.
“Sherry!”
I wrenched my head around. A creature – furry-faced and snarling – was coming for me. I heard Joshua loading his gun as fast as he could. Click. Click. Click.
I shot twice at the Weeper and missed both times. My hands shook so much I wouldn’t have hit a target twice the size.
Concentrate, Sherry.
My third shot hit the creature in the shoulder. Strips of dead skin fell off its body, leaving glaring red flesh. It didn’t slow down. More gunshots cracked in the warehouse, followed by roars and whines, and something that resembled a human cry.
Joshua? Where was he?
Determination burned through me. I managed to hit my target twice more, in the chest this time. The creature stumbled and dropped to the ground. It raised its head a few centimetres and looked at me with eyes that were too intelligent to belong to an animal. Milky tears poured out of its eyes, sticking to its fur.
Weepers. I wished the name wasn’t so fitting. But it would have killed me. It was either the Weeper or me, and I’d made my choice. Yet it had been a person once. Maybe a dad, or mom.
Stop it!
I pulled my eyes from the dying creature and looked around. Where was Joshua? My throat tightened, as if invisible hands were choking me. I grabbed a few bullets and loaded both guns as fast as possible.
“Joshua?” I shouted, my voice quivering. “Joshua!”
Footsteps came closer. Clattering. Something shattered on the ground.
I took aim.
Joshua came running out between two shelves. His right sleeve was torn and blood was dripping down his arm. I pointed my pistol towards him – I’d shoot whatever was chasing him.
“Get out of the warehouse!” His chest heaved. “There are more behind me.”
I whirled around and bolted towards the closed door. Joshua caught up with me. Piles of tyres had been thrown over and were rolling through the warehouse, casting twisting shadows on the walls. There was movement everywhere. I couldn’t tell the Weepers from the tyres. Dust filled the air, making me cough. Joshua’s legs were much longer than mine – he could have run faster – but he matched my pace. We jumped over tyres barring our way and dodged the ones rolling towards us. I was panting when we reached the door. I tried to open it, but it was stuck. Or the Weepers had blocked it. I jiggled the handle as hard as I could, hammered and pushed until my hands burned.
It didn’t move. Not a centimetre.
Joshua turned and shot bullet after bullet. The gunshots no longer hurt my ears. I risked a look over my shoulder. Five Weepers pelted our way, shoving each other and ripping skin off in their greed to reach us. Two were moving on all fours, the others upright like humans.
I kicked the door and threw myself against it, while Joshua kept firing. Pain shot through my arm. Desperately we crashed against the door together, and it swung open. I fell to my knees and dropped the gun.
Sunlight blinded me. Joshua gripped my arm and pulled me upright, still shooting. I glanced behind us. Only three Weepers were left standing, but they were close. His hand clasped mine as we ran, dragging me behind him. It was difficult to keep up with his pace. Without his grip on my hand I would have fallen. Every muscle in my body protested.
The Weepers followed us out of the warehouse, but in plain daylight they were easy targets. Joshua shot another one. The ones left stopped chasing us and disappeared from view.
“Where are they?” I panted, my eyes searching our surroundings.
“Hiding. They must have realized that they don’t stand a chance against our guns.” He gasped for air. We didn’t stop running. Hot air filled my lungs with every ragged breath. It burned.
It wasn’t long before we reached the Lincoln. We jumped into the car, grateful for its protection. The engine roared to life and we sped off in a cloud of burned rubber.
We’d gotten out of the warehouse alive, were safe for now, but my body didn’t stop trembling. Maybe because I knew this wouldn’t be our only encounter with the Weepers.
Pushing the blanket away, I rolled onto my back. Beads of sweat glittered on my skin.
The door opened and Mom entered, carrying a tray.
A soft scent wafted over to me. Chamomile and honey.
Mom perched on the edge of the mattress. “I made some tea for you. It’ll calm your stomach.”
Her hand was so wonderfully cool. My eyelids drooped as if an invisible force was dragging them down.
“Sherry, you must drink.”
I forced my eyes open and eyed the cup. It didn’t smell bad, and I liked chamomile tea. She brought the cup to my lips.
I took a gulp. The tea was hot, but not scalding. Mom always made sure I didn’t burn my tongue.
I waited for my stomach to revolt and inched a bit closer to the bucket next to my bed, just in case. But nothing happened. A feeling of warmth spread through my insides. I relaxed against the pillows and smiled when Mom kissed my forehead. “The public health officer will be here soon. Get some sleep until then, sweetheart.”
I leaned my head against the seat and took a few deep breaths. The stabbing pain in my foot brought tears to my eyes. The painkillers had worn off. Joshua winced as he steered the car. He was bleeding from a long gash on his upper arm and blood trickled down his tanned skin, dripping onto his jeans and the steering wheel. I twisted in my seat to take a closer look.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Doesn’t look like a scratch to me.” I lifted the shredded sleeve and inspected the wound. It wasn’t deep as far as I could tel
l, but I wasn’t a doctor.
“There are a few belts behind the passenger seat. I keep them in case I need a tourniquet.”
I reached behind my seat and felt around for one of the belts. My eyes swept round the car, searching for something I could use as a dressing.
“Glove compartment,” Joshua said through gritted teeth. The first sign he was in pain.
There was something in there that looked like it could be used as a bandage. It must have been a shirt once, before someone had ripped the fabric into long strips. It looked clean, but anyway, it was all we had for now.
I rolled up Joshua’s sleeve and began winding the strip around his upper arm. He clenched his jaw, but didn’t complain. We were still driving at an insane speed. The seats creaked like they would break loose and catapult me through the windscreen. A hint of burned rubber hung in the air. If the tyres exploded, we’d be stranded in the middle of nowhere. I tried not to pay attention to the houses rushing by.
“How did it happen?” I asked while I fastened the bandage with the belt. He winced. “Too tight?” I glanced at him.
He shook his head. “I followed two Weepers into an aisle but I didn’t pay enough attention. One of the Weepers sneaked up on me. It nearly got me. I managed to hit it with a bullet but the damn beast crashed into me. I was thrown against a shelf and something sliced open my arm. Are you done?”
I nodded and released him. The belt kept everything in place and the blood had stopped dripping down his arm. He looked down at the improvised bandage, then gave me a smile. “You’re a talented nurse. Perhaps I should keep you around.” He laughed and winked at me.
His cheeriness was so strange. We’d barely escaped the warehouse alive. Maybe he was just good at hiding his anxiety.
I leaned back in my seat. “I thought they were going to get us.”
“We need to be more careful next time, and we need to do something about your aim.”
“What’s wrong with my aim?”
“It’s miserable.”
I narrowed my eyes. Miserable? At least I’d shot one Weeper. Before yesterday I’d never tried to hit a living target.
Joshua looked at me with a lingering smile. “I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s in both our interests if you do better next time. The Weeper was running straight at you and it took you two gun-loads before you killed it. We’re running out of bullets. Every shot has to be a hit.”
I slumped in my seat. “I didn’t want to kill it. Its eyes…” I trailed off. “Its eyes looked so human. Like it was crying.”
Joshua reached over and took my hand. “It was hard for me the first few times. But you get used to it. You don’t have a choice. I don’t like killing anything. I hate this life, the killing – but if it’s not their death, it’s ours.” He paused, drawing in a deep breath. For the first time I could see how difficult this life was for him. “They’re hunting us. Killing them is our only chance for survival.”
I stared down at our hands. His sun-kissed skin was light-brown, while mine was pale from the years in the bunker. I liked the sight of our entwined fingers, like honey and milk. Joshua gave me a sideways glance, and when he noticed my eyes on him he pulled his hand back, curling his fingers around the steering wheel. I missed his touch.
Joshua avoided looking at me after that. He seemed distant. I didn’t get it. He’d taken my hand, not the other way around. Not finding Dad was bad enough, but Joshua’s sudden coldness made it even worse. His moods changed even faster than Bobby’s.
The strained atmosphere and the disappointment of not finding Dad – of not even having a clue where he was – pressed down on me like a heavy weight, until it felt like I had to squeeze out every breath.
We checked two more nests after the warehouse, both in south-eastern districts, but they were deserted. It looked like the Weepers had given them up long ago.
As evening fell, we began searching for a place to spend the night. I didn’t want to stop looking for Dad. Time was running out – if he was even still alive. I wanted to go on until we’d found him. I felt like I could go on for days without rest, food or water, running on adrenalin and worry alone, but it was too dangerous. Outside at night, we’d be easy prey.
“Maybe we should spend the night in one of the public bunkers?” I asked. It was the first time that I’d spoken more than one or two words since Joshua’s change of mood.
His body tensed and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He glanced at me, then turned away. “I don’t think we should.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back. What was going on with him? “Why not? We’d be safe there. Even Weepers can’t burst through steel doors.”
He shifted on his seat and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. I waited for him to reply, but he just stared ahead. I kept my eyes on him, determined to get an answer – preferably an answer that consisted of more than one word.
“Fine!” He glared at me. “We’ll spend the night in a goddamn bunker.”
He dropped his left hand from the steering wheel and then ran it through his hair. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“It’s okay. I just don’t get you sometimes.” I shook my head, then shrugged, unsure what else to say.
“I’m used to doing this alone. It’s easier.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I’m sorry for being a burden.”
He groaned. “You aren’t a burden. That isn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded like you did.”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He laughed. There was nothing happy about it. “Have you ever lost someone you should’ve taken care of?”
“Are you kidding me?”
Realization flashed on his face. “I forgot about your dad. But it was his job to take care of you, not the other way around. He’s the adult.”
“I went with him to make sure he’d return to our family safely. I should have helped him, but I couldn’t.” A lump rose in my throat. “I abandoned him.”
“No, you didn’t.” Joshua’s face was set. “You fought. You tried to help him, and even now you’re risking everything to save him.”
I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t stop blaming myself. My throat tightened again. Maybe if Bobby had gone with Dad, it would have been different. I sucked in a deep breath, then peered at Joshua. “I know what it means to lose somebody I should’ve taken care of. Now tell me what this has to do with anything.”
“When I’m on the hunt alone, I risk my own life, and if I fail, it’s only my life at stake; only I pay the price for my mistakes. But with you, there’s much more to lose. My failure can mean your death. It would be my fault.”
“You aren’t responsible for me. It’s my father we’re searching for. You’re helping me. You’re risking your life, though you’ve got no reason to. If anything happens to me, it’ll be my fault, not yours.”
“Do you think it’s that easy? I’d blame myself no matter what you say.”
I knew it wasn’t that easy. I blamed myself for Dad’s capture, and even if Joshua told me not to, I’d never forgive myself if we didn’t find him.
“I can take care of myself. We’ll both be fine. We’ll find my father and then we’ll return to Safe-haven. Everything will be fine.” My voice was full of conviction I didn’t feel.
“Yes, it will,” Joshua agreed.
We sat in silence for the rest of the drive.
Joshua pulled up in front of a public library. It was built of white stone, and the lawn surrounding it had been neat and beautiful once. Now the grass was overgrown and weeds covered the paths. At least bombs hadn’t destroyed it.
“There’s a bunker beneath the building.” Joshua nodded towards the main entrance.
He grabbed the backpack from the back seat, before handing me bullets and a new pistol. I’d lost one of the two he’d given me this morning. If I carried on like this, we’d run out sooner than Joshu
a thought.
We got out of the car and checked our surroundings. A group of ravens had gathered on the sidewalk, screeching and pecking each other. Red flashed between them. They fought over what looked like a lump of flesh. Maybe just a dead cat. At least I tried to convince myself that’s what it was. I definitely wouldn’t check.
I stayed at Joshua’s side as we approached the entrance to the building. His presence made me feel safe, though safety was an illusion in this new world.
“Were you in this bunker?” I sneaked a peek at him.
His jaw tightened. “No. My family and I were in the shelter near the harbour.”
His family. I’d just opened my mouth to ask about them, when I saw huge letters on the wide wall in front of me.
Judgement Day has come. Thou shall receive Our Holy Father’s judgement gratefully.
The sun was setting, the orange of its fading rays making the facade glow.
“Gratefully?” Joshua snorted. He rolled his eyes at the message on the wall.
My attention was distracted by distant buzzing. It sounded like a swarm of bees. I searched the sky until I spotted a black dot. There it was again. Was it following me? Before I had time to look closer, the spot was gone. I stared at the darkening sky, hoping for another sign of the strange black thing. With a sigh, I turned away.
The wooden double doors of the library were wide open, but there was nothing welcoming about them. A trail of dried blood led up the grey stairs into the entrance hall. Withered leaves and twigs covered the granite floor. Layers of dirt caked the once-white stone, and several of the windows were broken. Shards lay everywhere.
“Come on.” Joshua nodded in the direction of another staircase leading down to the floors below. A sign announced that the restrooms were situated downstairs.
I clutched the pistol as I walked down the steps. The place smelled of urine and excrement. And iron. Blood.
Joshua moved towards a steel door that stood open. I paused next to him and peered into the darkness.
“If the generator isn’t broken, we might even have light,” he said, flipping the switch.
The Other Life Page 9
