When We Were Human

by Kate L. Mary

  A little laugh shakes my body as a flash of the old me crawls its way to the surface. I smile and arch an eyebrow in Walker’s direction. “We?”

  Red creeps over his face, making his cheeks the same shade as the tips of ears. “No. I mean, that’s not what I meant. I was just talking about people in general. Not you and me.”

  A full-blown laugh pops out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I shake my head. I bump into him with my shoulder, grinning. Something I haven’t done in years. “I’m kidding, Walker.”

  He presses his lips together, but he can’t hide the dimple. “You should smile more often. And laugh. It’s nice.”

  The humor melts away faster than an ice cube on the surface of the sun. “I used to be a funny person. Laid-back, even. Maybe one day I’ll be able to laugh and joke the way I used to. If Lilly is alive—” I look away before he can see the tears in my eyes. “One day.”

  “We’ll work on it, Eva. Even if we don’t find Lilly, you can still have a life. We’ve all lost things, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the end.”

  I nod, but I don’t believe him. Not really. There isn’t much that I believe in these days, and people are near the bottom of my list. I’m pretty sure humanity is gone forever.

  10

  We stop at the edge of the field and survey the area. There’s nothing around, and in front of us, the asphalt has cracked from neglect and weather. Weeds have sprouted through in a lot of places, making the area look like a forgotten wasteland.

  After a few seconds Walker turns right, motioning for us to follow. “We’ll head this way for now. Shouldn’t be too long before we find a town or something.”

  He trudges ahead and Tara walks by my side, but her eyes never move from the back of Walker’s head. I’m surprised she’s able to leave his side at all.

  “You’re not trying to kill yourself, are you?” she asks, her voice low and soft, without even a hint of judgment.

  I stare at the scarf still tied around my arm and shake my head. The thing is filthy from the swamp water and it seems pointless to keep it on. I untie it and pass it to Tara.

  She takes the once-pink cloth and shoves it in her pocket. “Okay, then.”

  “You’re not going ask me about it?”

  Tara shrugs and glances my way, then goes back to staring at the back of Walker’s head. “None of my business.”

  “But it is if I’m trying to kill myself?”

  “I’m not going to waste my time walking all the way to Valdosta with someone who doesn’t give a shit.”

  “Good point.”

  “You’re in good hands,” Tara says, tilting her head toward Walker. “If I hadn’t found him, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “Things were bad after the liberation?” I only ask because I feel like something is haunting Tara. Not that she’s alone in that.

  “Yeah,” she says, letting out a sigh. “The worst. We were alone when we left the camp, but a week later we hooked up with a group just outside Kentucky. We were still running into stragglers here and there, and back then the invaders that were left behind hadn’t quite accepted the fact that they’d lost. We thought there was safety in numbers.”

  I nod because there had been a time when I’d thought the same thing. I was wrong, and I’m sure they were too.

  “Well, we were stupid. Young. Naïve. They could spot it a mile away. People can be nasty. Just as nasty as the invaders.” Tara’s jaw tightens, and she doesn’t elaborate. She doesn’t really have to.

  “I understand.”

  We lapse into silence, and a few minutes later, Tara starts walking faster. She leaves me behind and goes to stand next to Walker again. It’s like she needs his presence to calm her. She doesn’t need to say a word, though. The second she falls into step at his side, Walker puts his arm around her. Tara leans her head against his chest, and my feet almost stop moving.

  Seeing them standing this close together makes me tense up. Am I actually jealous?

  We reach a crumbling town about two hours after leaving the field. Walker slows before we get too close, but it only takes two seconds to know the place is deserted. Most of the buildings have caved in.

  “What do you think?” Tara asks. “We could stop for the night.”

  “We didn’t make much progress today.” Walker shoves his hand under his hat and scratches his head, his eyes moving over the area.

  “True,” Tara says, “but we need to pace ourselves.”

  They look at me as if I have the final say. It’s a nice gesture, even if it is total crap. I know we’ll do whatever Walker thinks is best.

  “If you think it’s a good place to stop, we’ll stop.”

  Walker’s eyes hold mine, and something inside me buzzes. Like a hummingbird’s wings beating against my heart. It’s strange and wonderful and scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

  I look away when my cheeks get hot.

  “Let’s check it out,” Walker says.

  He heads toward the town, and Tara is right by his side. I trail behind, watching every move Walker makes. There’s something about him that’s so interesting. I haven’t felt this way in years. Never thought I would again. It’s like a schoolgirl crush, and it’s stupid. This isn’t the time or the place, and he’s not the right person. He’s spoken for. So spoken for that he may as well have a wedding band on.

  The first few buildings we come to are crumbling houses that probably weren’t in much better shape four years ago. The roof of the first one has been blown off, and the second one has collapsed in on itself. The third one only has one wall standing. After that the houses are in a little better shape, but not much, and the closer we get to the center of town the better they are. Downtown we find an old five and dime store, a bar, and a VFW building. There are a few streets branching out in different directions, but Walker keeps to the main road.

  The town is as silent as every other place we’ve been. An empty shell. Weeds have sprouted through the cracks in the streets, trees grow in the middle of sidewalks, and the shrubs lining the walkway to homes have grown out of control. The desolation is something I can never get used to.

  Walker stops in front of a white house just past the VFW. There are a few rosebushes out front that are covered in red flowers. Like everything else, they are in desperate need of a trim. The house itself looks like it’s in decent shape, though. No broken windows, and the roof isn’t sagging yet. The front porch seems sturdy.

  “Let’s try this one.”

  Walker marches up the driveway, and Tara and I trail behind him. He walks by the path that leads to the front porch and heads to the back instead. I glance toward the front but keep pace with the others.

  “We aren’t going to try the front door?”

  Walker shakes his head. “No. We usually have better luck with other doors. Sometimes people were in such a hurry they forgot to lock the back. Even if it is locked, it’s less likely to have a deadbolt.”

  Okay…

  We reach a privacy fence that’s a little worse for wear but still intact. Walker reaches over and undoes the clasp. The door swings open with a groan. I look around like I’m nervous the noise will draw people to us. I don’t know why. The world is empty now.

  The backyard is overrun with weeds that come up to my waist, and they scratch at my bare legs as we wade through them. Making me wish I’d kept my jeans. They were hot, but at least my skin was protected.

  When Walker reaches the back door he turns the knob, but it doesn’t give. “Locked.”

  “We can break a window,” I say, surveying the house for a good entry point.

  He gives me a crooked grin and my stomach clenches, making me feel like I’m fourteen all over again. “Watch and learn.”

  I glance toward Tara, but she just grins. Then Walker takes a couple steps back before charging forward. His shoulder rams into the door and I wait for it to burst open, but it doesn’t budge. Walker groans and rubs his shoulder.

 
His cheeks turn red and he pulls his hat down over his eyes. “That should have worked.”

  Tara giggles, and he shoots her a glare. She covers her mouth but doesn’t stop, and her shoulders shake with silent laughter. Even I can’t help a smile from forming on my lips. Tara’s happiness is almost infectious.

  Walker takes a deep breath and mumbles, “One more time.”

  This time he walks back even further. Then he rushes forward, putting the opposite shoulder in front of him. It slams into the door, and there’s a crack as the wood splinters and the whole thing swings open.

  Walker stumbles forward, almost falling. When he straightens up, he turns around and gives me an exaggerated bow. “Tada!”

  Tara walks inside, patting him on the arm on her way past. “Good job.”

  He beams at her, then turns toward me like he’s waiting for a compliment.

  “Nice job,” I say with a shrug. It wasn’t quite as impressive as he’s making it out to be. We could have just broken a window and saved him from getting a bruise on his shoulder.

  Walker’s face falls, but I have no idea why. Did he expect me to jump up and down and hug him? Even though we just met, he must know that isn’t me. Maybe it would have been years ago, but not anymore. Now he’s lucky to get a smile out of me, which he did.

  Tara is already searching the kitchen cabinets when I step in, and there are two cans on the counter in front of her. She has to stand on her tiptoes to see the second shelf, so I go over to help. I find a can of peaches shoved to the back and hold them out to her.

  She takes the can and smiles. “They’re all expired, of course.”

  “What isn’t?” I say, bitterness seeping into the words.

  Tara doesn’t react. Instead she focuses on the cans in front of her, studying the dates printed on the metal. “You know how to tell which ones are still okay?”

  “Open them and see if the smell makes me throw up.”

  Tara shakes her head and holds up the peaches. “See how the top of this one is bowed out a little? That means there’s bacteria and stuff growing inside.” She puts the can down and picks up another. Baked beans. “Beans and corn tend to last longer if they’re stored right.”

  “Spam is still yummy,” Walker says from behind me.

  I turn to find him sitting on top of the kitchen table. He grins and rips off his hat, running his hand over his short hair. I look away before the fourteen-year-old stuck inside me starts fantasizing about writing our names together inside a heart. What’s wrong with me?

  “Only two,” Tara says.

  She has a can of Spam and the can of baked beans. Both are things I hated before the creepers came. Not that I’m going to turn my nose up at them now.

  I pull open the nearest drawer and start digging through it. “We need a can opener for the beans.”

  “Save it,” Walker says. “Let’s eat the Spam now.”

  He hops off the table and takes the can from Tara, then rips the lid off. When he turns it over, the rectangular blob of meat drops onto the counter with a splat. The surface is dirty, but none of us bat an eye. My mouth waters at the sight of the processed meat, and my stomach lets out a growl that reminds me of a bear.

  Walker elbows me and grins. “Hungry?”

  “Starving is more like it.”

  Tara grabs a fork that was lying on the counter, and divides the meat into three equal parts. Lightning bolts of excitement shoot through me when I get my hands on a chunk of Spam.

  Walker holds his in the palm of his hand and heads into the other room. “Let’s get comfortable.”

  I nibble on my Spam as I follow him. It’s salty and moist and one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. It’s been a while since I found any canned goods. Maybe we should search some of the other houses in town.

  Walker throws himself onto a hideous flowered couch, and a puff of dust flies up around him. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He just pulls off his hat and takes a tiny bite of Spam, sighing contentedly.

  I lower myself onto an equally dirty recliner, and Tara sits on the couch at Walker’s side. None of us say a word. We eat. Savor. Treasure our Spam like it’s the last time we’ll ever have it.

  It probably will be.

  When I’ve swallowed my last bite, I lay my head back and sigh. My stomach still growls greedily, but the meat took the edge off. Soon we’ll open the beans, and then I may be able to get a good night’s sleep.

  Maybe.

  I open my eyes when Walker shifts and the couch groans under his weight. Tara scoots closer to him, and he puts his arm around her.

  She snuggles into his side. “I wish we could sleep in a house more often.”

  Walker nods and leans his cheek against the top of her head. “One day, baby.”

  Hearing him call her baby causes heat to move over my cheeks. I squirm in my chair, feeling like an intruder as Tara peers up at him, then glances my way. Walker grins from ear to ear.

  He’s a puzzle.

  We doze into the evening, curled up on the filthy couches. My stomach growls, making it impossible for me to fall into a deep sleep no matter how hard I try. The room grows dark, and I’m finally forced get up. My bladder is full and I have a kink in my neck from sleeping upright. If we’re going to stay in the house, I’d rather find a bed. Then maybe I can sleep for real.

  Tara is out cold, her head resting peacefully in Walker’s lap, but he’s awake. He gives me a questioning look when I head toward the kitchen.

  “I have to pee,” I say with a shrug. I learned months ago to avoid bathrooms. The smell is usually strong enough to make it not worth the effort.

  I’ve only taken two steps toward the back door when Walker says, “Watch your back.”

  “I will.”

  Outside, the air is sticky and the sky dark. The moon peeks through the clouds just enough to illuminate the outline of trees and bushes in the yard. Flies buzz around me and crickets chirp, but other than that, the night is silent. I head to the right in search of a nice patch of weeds to squat behind.

  When I’ve finished, I stand and pull my pants back up. I’ve just zipped them when the sound of footsteps makes my heart skip a couple beats. Like a bolt I’m back down, squatting low to be sure I stay out of sight. I’m not sure what it was though. A person or creeper or animal? I can’t see anything and there’s no other noise. I hold my breath and don’t move, and after a couple seconds, more footsteps crunch through the yard. My heart beats faster, and I say a silent prayer that Walker and Tara don’t come looking for me right now. I’m not sure who or what it is or if they’re trouble, but at the moment the best thing I can do is stay still and hope they don’t know I’m here. I left my knife inside, which means I’m totally defenseless.

  When the creeper comes into view, my whole body tenses. There must be a hole in the fence, because one second the yard is empty, and the next he’s there, standing six feet away from me. I suck in a deep breath and hold it, willing my body to stay still. It isn’t easy. Seeing him makes me want to charge forward and skin him alive.

  He doesn’t move for a few seconds, almost like he’s waiting to see if anyone is around. Then he steps forward. The way their limbs sway when they walk always makes me feel like I’m watching a boat being tossed by the waves. He weaves his way through the yard toward the house, and I have to fight to hold still. I’m not sure what he’s doing. Looking for food, maybe? I have no idea if they eat our food or if they would even think to scavenge a house. To be honest, it’s something I never thought about until this second, but the truth is I don’t really care what they eat as long as they die when I pull the skin from their bodies.

  My lungs burn, and I’m forced to let out a breath. He pauses less than three feet from me, and I work harder at holding still. He turns his head, and his black eyes search the darkness, making my shoulders stiffen until they feel like they’re made of stone. I’m pretty sure he’s spotted me when Walker’s voice breaks through the silence and the creeper
reels toward the house.

  “Come on, Tara, you know me. I’m biding my time. Relying on my charm. It’s my best feature.”

  Why the hell is Walker talking this loud?

  The creeper takes a step back like he’s going to leave, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Good. I want him gone.

  Suddenly, the back door swings open and Walker steps out. “Eva?”

  His eyes land on the creeper and he swears just as I jump to my feet. The creeper stumbles back, and for a second I think he’s going to fall over, but somehow he manages to catch himself. I take a step toward him, and he spins around. Moving the other way. Hurrying to the back of the yard. My whole body buzzes with the urge to run after him. I want so badly to jump on him. To knock him down and cut him up, but I can’t because I’m unarmed.

  Walker rushes toward me as the thing disappears into the darkness. “Shit, Eva, are you okay?”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders, but I shrug them off. Mad at myself for forgetting my knife and itching with the desire to run after the creeper.

  “I’m fine,” I mumble glaring into the darkness at the back of the yard. “I just wish I’d had my knife.”

  “Damn. Come inside, will you? You scared me. I thought you’d gotten lost or something.”

  The deep concern in his voice catches me off guard. I turn to face him, peering at him through the darkness. He won’t meet my eyes, and his hat is pulled down even lower than usual. We stand there for a second before he shrugs and turns toward the door, holding it open while he motions for me to go inside.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, taking a step inside. My arm brushes against his chest when I pass him, and a shiver runs through my body. What the hell is going on with me?

  Tara is standing in the middle of the kitchen with an open can of beans. “What’s going on?”

  “Creeper,” I say, just as Walker says, “Invader.”

  He finally looks my way and grins. Once again I shiver, but I hug myself and try to pretend it’s because I’m chilly. Considering it’s probably ninety degrees and a thousand percent humidity, it’s no wonder my body doesn’t believe it.