by Jason Durman
You are human, I tell myself. Just not the kind of human they are.
Kinda.
"Can you shoot at all, kid?" Trevor asks, from behind me. I shake my head. Even when Marcy tried to teach me, the sound would hurt my ears too much, and she gave up after awhile.
He made the hmph sound. "You're gonna want to learn, if you're gonna keep up."
Eve looks back. "Do we even have any spares to give him?"
Trevor shrugs. I'm sure we can scrounge something."
"It's not going to be of much use if he can't use it."
"I suppose he could learn…."
Eve makes a snorting noise, through her nose, but she doesn't say anything. We keep walking. The ground goes crnh crnch under our feet. It gets darker the more we walk.
"So…" Eve says, after awhile. "Who are you looking for?"
I think a bit. I don't want to say too much. "Just... someone. Who might be able to help me."
"That's a stretch. Do you have a name?"
I think again. "Whitaker. Whitaker Walker is his name, I think."
Both Eve and Trevor stop, suddenly, and I almost walk into Eve. "You mean Sodapop Whitaker?"
Trevor asks, his voice all high and quiet. "Gun shop? Obsessed with cola?"
I'm not sure what cola is, but I remember the gun store. I nod.
" Acho men." Eve says. I'm not sure what an echo is, but I think that's a bad thing. "What on earth do you want to do with him?"
My stomach does a little churning thing, which doesn't feel very good. "I think he can help me."
"Him? Loco Whitaker? A man willing to let a survivor group get ripped to shreds because they got him the wrong kind of pop? I think you're flagging down the wrong light, kid." She shakes her head.
"He'll just as soon leave you to the dogs. Whatever you're looking for from him…"
"I need to find someone." I say, quickly. "How do you know about him?"
Eve looks at Trevor from the side of her eye. "Mostly radio talk." she says. "People tend to exaggerate, but there are some real crazies out there. It's probably better to stay clear of them."
I shake my head. "It's all that I know about. I think he's the only person I can trust. Um. About the person I'm looking for. He knows h- the person. Which I'm looking for."
She doesn't say anything. She just stares at me. Trevor puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Listen, Denver. We'll continue this conversation later, but…"
"Stay away from Whitaker." Eve says. "He's nothing but trouble."
We walk a little more.
When it starts getting dark, they walk faster. It's not hard to keep up, but I wish I can go on the rooftops like I'm used to. We keep having to go around cars and gates and things blocking the way.
After while, they stop in that place in between two buildings, and they get to a red door.
I've seen them before. Sometimes there's food in there, or a good place to sleep. This one is closed, but Eve doesn't open it. She bangs on it with her fist.
"Russ, open up." She sounds annoyed. "It's us. We found another guy out there."
"Did you loot the body?" I hear from inside. The voice is low, and a little angry sounding, but also tired at the same time. Eve sighs.
"He's alive, Russ. We're pretty sure he's harmless. Could you open up already?"
"Fine."
I hear a thunk from the door, and it shakes and rattles, and it sounds like someone is scraping along it. Trevor sighs. He seems to like sighing a lot.
"I don't see the point of all the darn locks, we're the only ones here." he says, all low, so that only Eve and me can hear. Eve goes shhhhh.
"You know how fussy he gets. It's his way of venting."
"He could do something that takes less time…"
"Oh, hush."
The door opens.
Russ… seems angry. He looks mad. He smells mad. But not like Big Angry mad. More like… quiet mad. Like the kind Marcy is whenever she talks to Gatling. She never yells (well, not all the time) or fights him, but it's always there, like she wants to jump him and tear his face off.
He has a beard, a big bushy one that covers his face, so I can't see what he looks like underneath.
One of his arms is in a sling, and then he smells tired, along with the mad.
He looks at me first. "Awfully damn scrawny for a live one, Eve. Are you sure you didn't just pick up some bunker lurker that crawled to the surface by accident?"
Eve shrugs. "We'll take what we can get. If he doesn't hold his own, then we don't have to take him on."
Russ nods, and he steps to the side so we can go in.
The room is… heavy smelling. It's sort of big, but with only one door, and no windows (which I don't like.)
There's not much room to jump or pounce, but I know not to say anything.
"It isn't exactly the, uh, homiest of safe rooms." Trevor says, behind me, "But it's warm. Mind Betsy over there, will ya?"
He points to a little box thing on the ground, that smells like gas. The air around it is wavy, and it feels hot near my leg. The gas smell makes my eyes water, and I cough a little. Trevor smiles.
"You'll get used to it, don't you worry." He says. "It's either this, or freeze to death."
I nod. I don't say anything, because I don't want to taste gas in my mouth.
There's not much space in the room, but there's some tables with maps and cans on them. In the corner, there's a bunch of blankets and sleeping bags on the ground.
Trevor starts to do something with Betsy. Russ is just watching me. He doesn't any anything, but I can almost feel his eyes on me. Eve puts her gun down on the table.
"You can take the gloves off now, kid. I know it's chilly, but there's no point in keeping them on near the heater."
Gloves…
Crap.
"Uh…" I say. Thinkthinkthinkthink….
"Um. They, er, get cold. Really easy. I, uh, like to keep them on. When I'm inside. Uh. Yeah."
She looks suspicious, and I almost hide my hands behind my back. Please don't ask please don't ask…
Then she shrugs. "Whatever works for you." Then she turns and starts talking to Russ.
None of them see me sighing. It feels like a big heavy thing in my chest just left me.
I'm safe.
For now.
Chapter 9
When he was alive, my father, in all of his wisdom, would give me little pieces of life advice that would seem somewhat non-sequitur at worst and anecdotal at best, but were usually relevant in some way. Some of them include:
1. Know your exit routes.
2. Finger on the trigger only when you're ready to fire.
3. Never cross a mercenary.
4. Don't fry bacon shirtless.
5. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet.
Sadly, few of of these seemed to apply. The only exit routes in this hell-hole were blocked and guarded. They took my gun (which pissed me off) and didn't bother to give me any bacon (which REALLY pissed me off.) There was also a distinct lack of mercenaries to anger, so I had to settle for Caldwell.
It seemed to be working. This is where rule #5 comes in.
Well, it had come in for about 10 minutes, up until they'd caught me making a break for it down the hall after I'd stolen a key-card from the guard's body, but, hey, progress is progress.
I spat. It was tinged a dark pink, but I'd do anything to get the taste out of my mouth right now.
"Was tearing out the man's jugular really necessary, Ms Walker?" Caldwell asked, dryly. Mind you, he was standing safely behind three inches of plexiglass. It was a little hard to see him behind all the blood smears. I shrugged.
"Dunno if I hit the vein. Shame, really, I was aiming for it." I started to clean some bodily parts from under my nails. "I definitely didn't hit his windpipe, he was screamin' like a stuck pig the whole time.
He'll live."
Caldwell's eyes took on a hard look.
"That man was one of the leadin
g scientists in the Green Flu research division." he said, simply.
"Your actions may have set us behind by weeks, if not months."
I shrugged. "Fuckin' stupid, that's what he was." I spat again. Copper, salt, yech… "Coming into a room unarmed? Really?"
Caldwell sighed, in an angry sort of way. "The fact you're making this more difficult, Miss Walker, isn't going to aid you. This is one of the best guarded facilities in the country. If you keep going on like this, all you're going to do is-"
"What? Make things harder for me?" I cut in . "My goodness dearie me. What'll happen? You'll take away my dessert privileges? Or even," I clutched my chest in mock distress- "You'll ground me?
Lord, bless my soul…"
Caldwell glowered. "I don't know why you're acting this way, Miss Walker. We've given you every commodity possible-"
" You locked me in a fucking cage. " I was up, standing in front of the blood-spattered glass, eye to eye with an asshole. "You disarmed me, stuck me in a little room with no windows, you've probably killed the only goddamn person I've trusted in forever by cutting him into little bits-"
"And for what?" Caldwell cut me off. "You're safe. Nothing can ever hurt you. You certainly have a better outlook on life than most people on the Eastern Seaboard, or anywhere else in this country.
Frankly, the only reason you aren't sedated is because the researchers are concerned it may have detrimental effects on your samples. But isn't that what you wanted?"
I glared at him, anger seething in my insides. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't that the point of your initial outpost? Complete isolation? Safety from the turmoils of the country?"
" This isn't the fucking same." I growled. "I had freedom-"
"And you had safety." He nodded. "Isn't that your goal? The military, the CEDA… they only want you to be safe.
Marzia."
That was it, That little, dental-floss, no, hairline thread that I'd been hanging on snapped. I didn't care about the blood. I didn't care about the glass. I didn't care about shit.
I slammed my fist against the wall, making the entire thing vibrate. It hurt, but what did I care?
"Do not." I hissed. Fuck you, fuck you all to the hell you were spawned from…
"Call me Marzia." The only person who can call me that is dead.
Caldwell didn't even flinch. With a soft click, the lights on his side when out, and I was left staring at my own reflection in the glass.
The blood didn't make me look any less savage.
At all.
Chapter 10
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Maybe I shouldn't be here.
Maybe they'll find out.
I can't sleep. They gave me a mattress, which smells kind of like gas, and and an old blanket, which is better than I'm used to, but I still can't let my head shut up enough for me to calm down.
Russ said we're moving out tomorrow, since his arm is feeling better and 'We apparently have a fuckin' copotent human being this time around.' He sounded mad when he said that. I'm still not sure why.
It's too loud, too. Trevor is making noise while he's sleeping- like a kind of a growl, but it's with every breath as he sleeps, like grrrn-hck, and it puts me on edge. The heater (Bessie? Why would he name something that isn't alive?) is rattling, and the wind shakes the boards in the windows.
When it was just me, I would sleep in the little spaces. Closets, cupboards, places that smelled all like chemicals and made me sneeze but kept all the rivals out of my way. The stupider ones- the infected- would sometimes try and get close, and I would run and hide, or fight and claw and bite.
Then the taste would be in my mouth for a looooooong time.
I hope I find Savannah soon.
Russ and Eve are standing on watch. (Which I think means looking for infected. They're not actually standing on anything.) They talk to each other, quietly so that they don't think I can hear it, but I can a little anyways through all the other noise.
"- can't see why you picked up a scrawny little brat like him, Eve, and I know we need backup, but did you really have to go with the first non-infected thing you saw running around this dump?"
"It's better than nothing, Russ." she replies. "There's not much hope for evac in any case."
"You know how I feel about the borders."
"I was there when we saw it, and I know just as well as you that it isn't safe."
"Damn straight."
"It's not like hiking all the way to South Carolina is gonna give us more of a chance."
"Whatever." Russ says. "We're getting off-topic. What do we do about the kid?"
I hear Eve shrug, because the coat she's wearing makes a ssshk noise when she moves her shoulders. "We haven't run into any survivors for weeks, carriers or no, and anything that moves out there, as far I can tell, is a zombie." She stops. "I do have my doubts, though," she says, quieter,
"Yeah?"
"It's like he has brain damage. The way he stops after each word… like he has to think, just to talk."
"Or he has something to hide." Russ adds.
Eve is quiet for a moment.
"I suppose we all have something to hide."
Russ sniffs. "Yeah, well, secrets isn't gonna get him far here."
"What could it be? Raiders? Robbers? We don't have much they could want. We're scraping by as it is."
"They'll take anything," he says. "Guns, clothes, wom-"
"I get the picture."
"But I don't think it's raiders. Something worse, maybe."
"How can you tell? And what could be worse?"
Russ shrugs, too, but it isn't as rustley. "Call it a gut feeling. There's something about him that puts me on edge."
When he says that, I feel all prickly, like I should get up and run.
Eve sighs. "I know you're being paranoid, but then again, I know your gut's never wrong."
"It wasn't that one time."
They're quiet again, and they don't talk for awhile. All I can hear is Trevor growling and the heater grumbling.
I wait.
"Just go with the gut feeling, Russell," Eve says, finally. "We'll watch him."
"Yeah, and when we go out there, we'll take down anything in our way," he growls. "The commons, the chargers, the Sirens, the stupid hoodie fuc-"
"Wait." Eve stops him. "Did you hear that?" They both turn to where I'm sleeping.
I didn't feel it until now, but I was squeezing my hand so much the sleeping bag tore, the fabric shredding under my fingers.
I tighten my whole body.
Trevor goes grrn-hck.
Then, after a long time, they turn back to the door. I relax.
"Probably the wind," Eve says, but she sounds worried. "But let's keep low for now."
Russ nods, and they don't talk anymore.
Trevor still growls. The heater thing is still going. But it feels like there's not enough going on. My head is buzzing with questions.
I wish it wasn't so quiet.
Trevor and I take watch awhile later. I didn't get much sleep, but I don't say anything about it.
He doesn't talk as much as Russ did, but he does ask me one question, once the others are asleep.
"Where did you come from?"
I don't know what to say. Something that he can't ask me too much about.
"North. Uh, from Maine."
I wait for him to ask more questions, but he hmphs and turns away. "Trees and cold. That's all there is to it," he says.
"Um." I say. "Yeah."
Then we don't say anything for the rest of the night.
Russ wakes up first, when all the parts outside are getting lighter and it's coming in through the boards on the windows.
"About damn time." Trevor says, looking over, and Eve is up next. She goes to one of the cupboards and starts doing something with some water and brown powder.
Soon, she hands me a cup of dark stuff that smells really st
rong.
"I'm afraid you'll have to take it black." she says. "We're all out of powdered creamer. Are you ok with that?"
I sniff it. It doesn't smell poisonous, but I haven't seen anything like it before.
I take a sip.
UGH! HORRIBLE! It burns my tongue and my mouth and even when I spit it out, the awful bitter taste is still there.
"I'll take that as a no," says Eve, and she looks a little mad at me. Trevor is laughing in the corner, quietly so she can't hear.
Russ takes a cup (Why? I don't know) and is looking at a map on the table. There's a bunch of red lines on it.
"We're moving out as soon as we're done here," says Eve, who's drinking the dark stuff, too. "Russ's arm isn't fully healed yet, but if we stay here any longer, he'll either go crazy or we'll starve to death."
"How did he hurt it?" I ask. She seems to think a bit.
"An incident. Charg-uh, one of those big arm things threw him at a wall. Man, it was huge," she says, shaking her head. "Took a full M16 to take it down. Russ is probably lucky to get off with a broken radius."
Ow. I think. Maybe that's why he's so grumpy all the time.
Trevor, Eve and Russ all finish drinking the horrible black stuff and start putting on jackets, and loading their guns. Eve starts putting away cans into a bag, and Trevor rolls up the map.
I don't have anything with me, so I wait.
Russ looks over at me watching them.
"Do you know how to shoot, kid?"
I shake my head..
" Goddamn." he says, quietly, shaking his head. "How you managed to survive out there is beyond me."
He turns around and grabs something from off the table.
"We don't have much to spare, anyways, so you'll have to make do with this."
He hands me what Marcy once told me was a Tactical Collapsible Entrenching Tool. She kept one in the cabin- it folded up and had a different, shorter name, I think. A-
"A shovel." Trevor says, looking at me holding it. "We're about to go into zombie-infested territory, where we have no idea what we might run into, and you give the kid a darn blunt shovel?"
Russ shrugs. "If he managed to live out there without even a pair of brass knuckles, then a shovel's an improvement. Besides, if you're so worried, why don't you lend him something? I'm sure you have a carbine to spare."
Trevor makes an angry noise. "There's no point in being so hard on him," He mutters, but he still holds on to his gun.
