After a small eternity with the swarming crazed, Clay realized there were only a few more to put down. Off to the side, Ralph backed away from his position, suddenly looking fearful. He dropped to his knees, crying out. Clay couldn’t make out the words.
Brandon jumped next to him. He blasted two that were approaching rapidly, becoming Ralph’s guardian. Brandon killed the last three, dropping them to the blood-soaked pavement, their limbs still flailing helplessly.
Brandon breathed hard in the silence that followed, and squinted down at his friend. Ralph’s eyes were tightly closed, panic still on his face.
“What was that, man?” Brandon asked. He gripped Ralph’s elbow and pulled him to his feet. “Jesus. You’re better than that.”
“I’m not,” Ralph whimpered. “I’m just not.” He dropped to his knees and cowered, trying to cover his ears. “That fucking gunfire is destroying my eardrums, Brandon. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going fucking nuts. This—this is why they put the soldiers in the loony bins, Brandon. It’s because of the gunfire.”
Clay and the others joined Brandon and Ralph, but gave them several feet of space. Ralph was panting, as if he couldn’t take in enough air. Brandon finally kneeled down beside him and murmured into his ear, as if he were consoling a child.
“Ralph, you can’t give up on me like that. Not out here, not on the battlefield. We only have each other now. And I told you back in the store that I’d be really bummed if you died. Listen, man. I meant it. I wouldn’t get over it, Ralph. Think about me when you’re out here. Think about Alayna. Think about how Connie would want you to live, for Christ’s sake.”
Clay’s eyes narrowed, meeting Alayna’s. She pressed her lips together, a look of concern on her face. Ralph was on the brink of insanity. It seemed clear to both of them.
“Plus, I know you’re not going to shoot me again,” Brandon said, trying to joke. “Because you know I’ll shoot you back if you do.”
“Ha,” Ralph said. A single tear tracked through the dirt on his cheek. “It’s not that, kid. I just ran out of bullets in the gun, you know? And I didn’t have another hand to reload. I’m useless. I’m completely useless to you guys out here. I was ready to surrender. Give up. I’m just holding y’all back, anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Brandon said, rubbing at the old man’s back. “We’re going to get out of this. We’re going to survive. Giving up is never an option. And if you need someone to change out your clips, I got you next time. Friends watch out for each other.”
Ralph peered at the rapidly maturing young man suspiciously. “Why should an old man like me trust a kid like you?”
“I already saved your life once, asshole,” Brandon replied. “Don’t forget that for a minute. You owe me. And the only thing I want is for you to live, dammit. Live!”
Everyone moved closer to the man and boy, galvanized by Brandon’s speech. His strength and compassion made them stand straighter, and their eyes brighter. They’d had to throw out all the rules of their past lives. Age was just a number, now. Nothing more.
Brandon helped Ralph up. Both were spattered with blood from the crazed. Clay knew he should say something, find words that would bring them together. But exhaustion from the day numbed him.
“We have to keep moving,” he said finally. “We can’t waste the whole day.”
They nodded before silently collecting their sacks of food. Brandon popped open a can of Pringles and began to chomp, a smile stretching his cheeks. Clay had half a mind to tell him that he’d done a good thing, and that he’d be a good leader one day. Maybe even a sheriff, if he wanted it.
But he kept it to himself, the future was too uncertain. He kept his eyes on the horizon, his mind worried about the difficult road ahead.
Chapter 6
They walked through the afternoon, their shoes tighter on their feet with every mile. Their muscles were achy, their eyes were glazed. Clay forced himself on, despite the vertigo creeping in. Daniels, who was a bit taller, walked amicably beside him, his boots crunching on the occasional pebble.
“You think we’ll have to walk all the way there?” Daniels asked, trying to make his question private. But his voice was far louder than intended. The others perked up, listening.
“I’ve been trying to come up with something . . . anything that could protect us from this heat and get us under some kind of cover,” Clay said, still watching the road in front of them. “But so far, nothing. I’m thinking maybe we should find shelter for the night soon. There’s not much daylight left, and I don’t want to be out here after dark.”
The terrain around them had changed in the previous hour, the road now skirting the rim of a massive canyon on one side, snaking through the bordering mountains. As they followed the curvature of the road, Clay stopped short, hopeful at what just came into view.
In front of them were six cars, stopped haphazardly on the road. In the distance, an oversized semi truck had jackknifed, blocking the road. The fifth wheel coupling and forward half of the trailer jutted beyond the edge of the canyon, threatening to go over at any moment.
“Jesus,” Clay murmured, trying to make sense of the scene.
“What are we waiting for?” Daniels cried. “We should try to get one of the cars started. It might be cramped, but at least we’d have some shelter on the way to Helen.”
“And how do we drive it around that semi?” Alayna asked, her nose high. “There’s no median to drive on. We’d just drive straight into the canyon.”
“And explode into a million pieces,” Ralph added.
“Right,” Alayna agreed. “It’s a complete bottleneck.”
“Well, damn.” Daniels scratched at his growing beard.
“Then we check all the cars, and scavenge anything useful,” Clay said. “We’ll keep going on foot, but we might find more supplies at least.”
“I’m sure everyone took anything of value with them,” Jacobs pointed out.
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look,” Clay said, his eyes alert. “Alayna. Adam. You stand guard. We’re losing light quickly. Make sure the crazed don’t come at us. And let out a yell if you see something, anything. You’re our eyes and ears.”
“Got it,” Alayna said.
The rest of them hurried forward, circling the first vehicle, a dark green sedan. It sat at an angle, the right rear tire hanging over the edge. Clay peered into it, pressing his forehead against the glass, and saw nothing but black leather seats and a few empty soda bottles in back. He tried the door and it opened. He leaned toward the glove box, finding nothing but insurance papers for a man named Matthew Connors, and a toy. He sighed, looking up at Ralph, Brandon, and Jacobs, standing nearby with blank looks on their faces.
“I’ll check the trunk and the back seat. Why don’t you three start on the other vehicles. We should look through everything. Leave no seat unturned. Understand?”
They headed toward the other cars; beginning their own methodical searches. They dove through abandoned personal items, discovering what was left behind by people who were either now dead or at least long gone. Alayna and Daniels paced the perimeter, their guns high, their eyes sharp. The sun was dipping lower, adding to Clay’s mounting anxiety.
Several minutes later, Clay joined the other three. Brandon was squeezed in the backseat of a car, rifling through a briefcase. “Nothing but papers, man. I found some snacks up front, though. Fruit roll-ups. I used to love that shit.”
Disheartened, Clay raised his eyebrows at Jacobs across the top of the car. Jacobs shrugged and moved on to the next vehicle. But as he neared the red SUV, he stopped, his shoulders tensing. He was frozen, panicked.
“Jacobs? Leland? What is it?” Clay asked.
“I—I think you’re going to want to see this,” Jacobs said quietly. “Brandon. Stay back.”
“Why? You can’t leave me out of the loop,” Brandon said indignantly.
Clay joined Jacobs at the SUV. Even with the glare from the sun, he could se
e the interior clearly. The scene made his blood run cold. This was the reality they were all now facing; this was death and destruction. This was the future of their world.
A middle-aged man sat in the driver’s seat, a bullet wound at the side of his head. Dried blood on his cheek and down his shirt. His mouth was agape, and his eyes were half-open and oddly purple. Beside him, a younger woman, looking peaceful but with a similar bullet wound just north of her ear. In the back seat, two children, both pre-teens, huddled together, covered in blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Clay gasped.
“What do you want to do, boss?” Jacobs murmured, making no effort to reach for the door handle. “I don’t know if we should disturb them. Who knows how long they’ve been in there.”
Brandon and Ralph appeared beside them. Brandon gasped and smacked his hand over his mouth. Ralph was stoic, unshakable now. They both looked away, clearly wishing they were somewhere else.
“All—um, all the other cars are cleared,” Brandon said, drifting away from the gruesome scene. “Where would their passengers have gone?”
Clay eyed the gorge beside them with curiosity, wondering what they might find. He shivered, suspecting that all of the cars’ drivers were either plastered to the canyon floor and dead, or munched up at the hands of the crazed. Perhaps they were crazed themselves.
“You think the dad took matters into his own hands, then?” Ralph asked. “Something made him crack. And he knew he had to be the one to kill his family. He brought them into the world. He’ll take them out of it. That sort of thing?”
Clay nodded almost imperceptibly. He thought about Maia and Valerie. Faced with the same choice, would he have shot them? He imagined aiming the gun at each of their heads. Forcing himself to squeeze the trigger. He shivered.
“I would never be able to kill Connie,” Ralph whispered as if Connie wasn’t already dead. “It would destroy me.”
“He didn’t have to live with his decision long.” Brandon gestured at the sad, lifeless man in the front seat. “He’s gone.”
“This means he has a gun,” Clay realized with a start.
“We should just leave them in peace, Clay—” Ralph began tentatively. “I don’t want to open it.”
“We have to think about survival,” Clay said, sounding brutish. He brought the top of his shirt over his nose and mouth, hoping to block the smell. He yanked at the door and opened their coffin. Putrid air poured out. Up close, he could see horrible details about the children: that the girl had ribbons woven into her hair, bright blue. That the older brother still had long-since-silent ear buds stuffed in his ears.
The father’s face was easier to bear. The man was fatigued, clearly. Probably frazzled to no end during his final days of life, strapping his family into their SUV and trying to hightail it out of town. Clay reached in and grabbed the gun from the man’s hand, then dug through the side compartment and found several more rounds. Clay felt a momentary burst of hope.
“We got some,” he said, still studying the vehicle with morbid curiosity.
“Shit, man,” Jacobs murmured as Clay closed the door. “I’m glad it was you who went in there, not me.”
Clay put the gun in his waistband and pocketed the bullets, blowing hard several times attempting to clear the stench from his nose. The silence around him was dense and thick, imbued with despair. Would they soon be as dead as these innocent people? Should they just shoot one another now and avoid all this?
Were they just as doomed?
Clay shook his head and moved on to the semi. The others followed.
When he popped open the cab door, the first thing he checked was the CB, tapping the button but hearing no static on the other end. The seat was set back, showing the driver had been a long-legged person. A green tree air freshener danced from the edge of the visor above, and a photograph of a young girl, with the words: “HI DADDY” was taped to the dashboard. Clay was grateful he didn’t have to look at another body.
“No power, I guess,” Clay said and returned to the ground. “And no sign of extra supplies up there, either. Unless you want a cassette of Journey’s greatest hits.”
“Hey. They have some good ones,” Ralph protested. “At least we know our absent driver had good taste in music.”
“My guess is he came on some of the crazed in the road,” Jacobs said. “Swerved trying to avoid them. The tires locked up—”
Brandon shook his head. “I don’t really want to think about what happened.”
Alayna appeared, with Daniels following close behind. She pointed her thumb at the back of the trailer, shrugging. “We tried to open it up, but it’s locked. Any sign of the key up there?”
“The key?” Clay was almost giddy. He bounded to the back, drew his gun confidently and blew the lock off. It skittered off the edge and into the canyon, becoming just a small dot before completely disappearing from view.
Clay opened the trailer and gaped at the load. He whooped with triumph. When the others saw inside, they added their voices to his. They’d finally caught a break. Of course, their luck could run out any moment.
“Shit.” Ralph spat on the ground. “I never thought I’d say this, especially not now. But it seems our prayers have been answered, guys.” He smacked Brandon on the back, and he squealed in mock pain.
The others laughed and cheered, raising their arms as if they’d just won a race. They had nothing but the road anymore. And now they would make the road their bitch.
Chapter 7
A high-pitched whine echoed through the canyon, bouncing around the red rock formations, and making the bright, orange sunset come to life in a way that seemed impossible, given the post-apocalyptic nature of the previous few weeks.
Clay had never felt more alive.
The survivors tore down the road, riding six mopeds, leaning into the wind. The mopeds had been in the back of the trailer, apparently on their way to a local dealership. There’d been twelve of them in all—more than enough.
“Have you guys ever ridden one of these?” Brandon had asked, giving them a dose of his teenage arrogance. “Because I have. And they’re rad.”
“I think we all know how to ride, thanks,” Alayna retorted.
“It’s different.” Brandon smiled. “You feel more alive. Just trust me on this one.”
But once they’d pushed their mopeds around the bottleneck and barreled toward Helen, Clay had to admit, he understood Brandon’s feelings. The wind tugged at his hair, made his cheeks red, and chapped his lips. But he screamed out a cowboy-ish yell, with the blood pumping in his veins.
Brandon was next to him in the left-hand lane, dangerously close to the edge of the canyon. But his eyes were wide and full of laughter—he was quite aware how reckless his actions were—and he wouldn’t have changed them for the world.
Alayna passed Clay and pulled ahead, giving him a sassy look, her eyes dancing. She sped forward, taking the lead, while Clay laughed heartily.
Clay spotted a sign that read, Helen—30. That would take them no time at all, they’d probably arrive before dark.
They were going to make it. They were one step closer to finding where Valerie and Maia were—hopefully learning Megan’s whereabouts, as well—and getting a step closer to normality, something that had become more dream-like and distant with every passing hour.
When they exited from the highway into the outskirts of town, Clay slowed and turned his head toward Jacobs. “Pull over!” he yelled, then slowed his bike to a stop and cut his engine. The others joined him, and they all looked over the high road at the city in the valley. Clay thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d seen in a while: so far away from depths of the destruction of civilization.
“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” Ralph asked.
Clay searched the others’ faces, landing finally on Jacobs. His lips were pressed firmly together; his eyes were hard, knowledgeable.
“I don’t know my way around Helen,” Clay said. “Only a vague
recollection of where Main Street is,” he prodded Jacobs for answers.
“The candy shop,” Jacobs said pointing at the town. “It’s on Main Street, in fact.”
“When were you here last?” Clay asked.
“Just a few weeks ago. We were archiving files in the lab downstairs. But I have reason to believe the other scientists stayed behind. Like I wanted to, back at our lab.”
“You’re saying that was the reasonable option?” Alayna said incredulously. “We would have died back there.”
“We still don’t know what we’re going to find down there,” Clay said. “Let’s not bicker. Let’s just get in there. See what we can see. If they’re there, great. If they’ve moved on, then so will we.”
In reality, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. But just the thought of seeing some different faces, getting some new information, after so much doubt and nothingness, revved Clay’s soul. And if Jacobs’ scientists were around, he knew that they’d be that much closer to understanding the epidemic, and understanding if they could live through it.
“You lead, Jacobs,” Clay said. “If we see any of the crazed, or any survivors for that matter, don’t stop. It’s too dangerous, and it’s getting dark. We need to get to the lab. Does everyone understand?”
Jacobs revved his engine and pulled out first, leaving Clay to follow. The rest rode single-file behind him. They drove tentatively into Helen, feeling the chill as the day waned. The next hour could change their survival tactics, and thus, the rest of their lives.
Chapter 8
Despite being twice the size in population, Helen was similar to Carterville in almost every way, with the same string of gas stations and fast food joints littering the main drag. Post-epidemic, the town was virtually deserted, much like Carterville, with dusk drawing long shadows across the pavement.
Seeing Helen so desolate sent shivers down Clay’s spine. He kept his eyes on the horizon, ensuring that his crew wasn’t riding headfirst into any of the crazed. He couldn’t look at his surroundings. If he saw someone in distress, he didn’t trust himself. It was in his very nature to save them.
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