by Russ Watts
It wasn’t the easiest of nights, but they were at least able to sleep in fits and starts. Freya’s nightmares kept Jonas awake for a while. She said more at night than in the daytime. Her occasional cries for help as she slept were the only words she ever said now. Dakota still refused to speak to Jonas, and she slept by Pippa and Peter. Mrs Danick and Terry grumbled, but accepted their lot, and finally fell asleep. Quinn and Erik told the others they would sleep by the doors, just in case anything disturbed them in the night. Jonas found a quiet corner to himself and hoped he would get some much needed rest.
At first, he lay there, remembering the day’s events, remembering those who had passed, but eventually, his tired body demanded rest, and he fell asleep. He didn’t remember his dreams, but was quite sure he dreamt about something. Sometimes he was woken by Freya, and sometimes he woke himself in a sweat, his hands clenched and his heart pounding. At one point, there was a banging on the side of the truck, and he sat upright, looking for the source of the noise. It was coming from outside, somewhere near the rear doors. It was an irregular sound, as if someone was walking into the side of the truck repeatedly, like a bumblebee banging its head repeatedly against a window. Jonas looked over and saw Erik and Quinn awake too. Erik raised a finger to his lips, indicating for Jonas to be quiet. When Jonas reached for his gun, Erik frowned and shook his head. After a few minutes, the banging stopped, and whatever was outside continued on its way. After that, Jonas tried to sleep, but with the constant interruptions, no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to drop off fully.
He was woken in the morning with sunlight on his face. Erik and Quinn opened the rear doors, and everyone was filing out. Jonas had no idea how long they’d been inside the truck, but he was pleased to be back outside. He stretched and looked around, as the others yawned and gathered themselves together. Peter handed out rations, and everyone took a sip of water. When Peter handed Terry an empty bottle, he announced that they’d just had their last meal. The food and water was gone, and the rucksack now had just a few medical supplies, and some of the guns and ammo that Jonas had retrieved from the CDC tent yesterday. As of now, they were homeless, and had nothing to eat or drink until they found something.
They had been walking the road since then, and Jonas was obediently following the rest of the group. Dakota still ignored him, and he had given up trying to talk to her. She clearly wasn’t about to give up her foul mood, and he was just going to have to let her work it through. Erik was leading them somewhere, but wouldn’t say where. He said it was somewhere they might be able to stay, if it was still secure, but if not, they would have to move on. He wasn’t too sure which direction they had come out of Jeffersontown, and what with walking around in the dark, it had taken some time to get on the right track. Jonas didn’t care where they were going. Out in the open, away from the town, it strangely felt safer. If they were attacked, at least they would see the dead coming.
As Jonas walked, he realised he should feel relieved. Tyler was the only link to what had happened in the garage, and he had taken Jonas’s secret to the grave, yet Jonas didn’t feel relieved in the slightest. Tyler should be here now, no matter what he knew, and it pained Jonas for him to be absent. Excusing Dakota, in some ways he felt closer to Tyler than anyone else. It was as if their shared experience in the garage had linked them, their futures inexplicably becoming intertwined the moment Jonas had picked up that axe. Perhaps they still were. Perhaps Jonas would get bitten, or scratched, and end up in a shallow grave by the roadside like Tyler too. Would the others care enough to stop him from coming back? Jonas watched Peter holding Freya’s hand as they walked, and knew they would. These people cared about each other, Jonas included. When things got serious, all the arguments were forgotten. No, he couldn’t afford to let himself get bitter, or bitten. He was being shunned right now, but he only had one person to blame for that, and there was only one person who could save him from himself. Jonas knew he had to stop over-thinking things, stop being so sensitive, stop thinking about what he had done, and focus on what he could do. He had to find a way to make the others trust him again.
“Hey, Peter, let me take the rucksack. You’ve got your hands full. Let me help?”
Peter seemed to think over Jonas’s offer, and then slipped the rucksack off his shoulders. “Here. Thanks.”
Jonas smiled as he took it, but Peter remained calm, his face seemingly incapable of smiling anymore. Jonas wondered how he did it. Freya stuck to Peter like glue, but he was just a kid himself. He was mature beyond his years. Erik had every right to be proud of him.
“You still taking care of that thing I gave you, Freya?” Jonas asked.
Freya looked up at him through sad, blue eyes, a quizzical look on her face.
Jonas leant down to her as they walked. “You know that keychain with the picture of the Fort on it?” he whispered. “Well it’s really important. I hope you still have it tucked away somewhere safe?”
Freya slowly drew her hand from her pocket, and showed Jonas the keychain. She held onto it tightly, as if it were an extension of her hand.
“Thanks, Freya,” said Jonas, giving her a friendly wink.
He watched her tuck it back into her pocket without saying a word. The poor kid must be out of her mind. She was alert, intelligent, and she knew what was going on, yet she remained in a self-imposed silence. If it helped her deal with things, then Jonas was all for it. He was struggling to understand the new world, so it must be a hell of a lot harder for a nine year old. She had been close with Mary too. There hadn’t been much the girls could do together back at Erik’s house, cooped up inside without light or electricity. They couldn’t run around and make noise like kids should do, so they had to play board games and whisper. It hadn’t been much better for the adults either. To pass time they talked, and that was about it. They tried playing a few games, but Erik only had a battered old monopoly set and a pack of cards missing two aces and the seven of hearts. Jonas would give anything to go back to those tedious days, not knowing when they were going to run out of water. Anything was better than living on the run, fending off the dead on an almost hourly basis.
“We’re about here,” announced Erik suddenly. He paused by a burnt out old Ford truck that had come to rest in a ditch. “It looks promising.”
Jonas was weary. He was desperate to believe in Erik, to believe they had found somewhere safe to stay, but looking around, he couldn’t see much. There was a tall solid fence, at least ten feet high, with barbed wire along its top. On the other side of the road, just open fields and shambling figures in the distance.
“So what’s on the other side of the fence, Erik?” asked Quinn. “You got a plan?”
Something clicked in Jonas’s head, a vague memory that there was something important here. He didn’t recognise his surroundings, and the fence was unassuming, cold and grey, yet clearly, it was important. Jonas was drawn to the fence, and he studied it closer. Somebody had gone to great lengths to erect it, so whatever lay behind it must be worth protecting. If the fence was intact, then whatever, or whoever was on the other side, was potentially clear of zombies. A thought kept tapping away at his brain, like a knock at a door. There could be somewhere safe on the other side, somewhere without the dead, without the worry of having to watch your back every step, somewhere to rest and sleep. He ambled over to Erik who was looking very tired now. Jonas saw Erik’s boots were scuffed, and the jeans he wore were too big for him now, his bulk having slimmed down over the last few months as rations worsened. The back heels of his jeans were frayed and torn, and his shirt was drenched in sweat. He was, as usual, chewing on a licorice roll. Erik offered some around, but no one could stomach it, despite their hunger.
“Erik, what is this place? You know it? You know where we are?” Like a riddle, Jonas felt the answer coming to him, but it was like his brain was numb, and the answer stayed hidden.
“Saint Paul’s.”
Jonas recognised the name, but he
couldn’t place it. Why did he know that name? It sounded foreign, but familiar too. Erik could see the obvious confusion on Jonas’s face and explained.
“Saint Paul’s golf course. They were building it back when we were growing up, remember? I’m not sure they finished it before you left. We’ve come out on the eastern side of the city. It’s an 18 hole course they use for the Masters. They’ve gotten more precious in recent years, and they put a fence up around it sometime last year. I’m not much of a golfer myself, but living here you can’t help but take an interest. Once a year we get all these golf nuts descending on the city for the Masters.”
“I guess they won’t be coming this year,” said Mrs Danick wryly.
Jonas rubbed his neck. The sun was slowly roasting them alive, and they were going to have to find shelter soon. It was approaching midday, and the heat would just drain them of energy the longer they spent in it. They had no water, and Jonas wasn’t keen on being out in the open for too much longer. Those shambling figures in the distance were only getting closer. Finding the physical strength to kill more of the dead was getting harder and harder. They had spent so long being cooped up inside lately that it felt good to be out on the open road. On the other hand, he felt exposed, and he knew the others would be thinking the same, although nobody spoke. He saw Peter holding Freya’s hand, looking expectantly at his father. There was a hope in his eyes that Jonas hadn’t seen in a long time. Peter was sweating profusely. Like all of them, he was dehydrated, and no doubt had a headache too. Peter had the added pressure of looking after his sister. Occasionally, Freya would run to her mother, but most of the time she stayed with Peter. Terry and Mrs Danick still carried the guns, and with them the weight of expectation. If there was any kind of attack, they were probably going to be the first to shoot. Terry was fragile and Jonas was worried about him. The pressure was showing, and though he didn’t like to admit it, Terry had been strongly affected by Randall’s death. Terry had slept poorly last night in the back of the truck, and Jonas had heard him crying.
“You know where the front door is?” Jonas asked Erik. “Getting over, or through, this fence looks impossible.”
“About a mile away. We’re on I58, so if we take the next turn up ahead we’ll be there in…”
“Hang on, are you thinking of trying to get in there?” asked Quinn. “Are you sure about this? We don’t know what’s beyond that fence.”
“There’s a good chance they have supplies inside. You know, the summer golf tournaments would mean the clubhouse should be well stocked. I know they upgraded everything last year too, so they have solar power, a back-up generator, even their own well. It could be nirvana on the other side of that fence,” said Erik.
“Or hell,” muttered Dakota.
“Couldn’t you do with a bottle of water, or maybe a glass of wine?” Jonas looked at his wife, hoping she would engage in conversation. He would rather she argued than stayed silent.
“I’d take a bottle of anything right now,” said Dakota, “but going in there is still a risk. Have you forgotten the garage already?”
Jonas didn’t know what or where his hackles were, but they were definitely rising. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “That was different, and you know it.”
“Was it?” asked Dakota. It looked like she was about to say something else, only she pushed her lips together and stared down at her feet.
“Look,” said Erik, “we’re going for it. That’s the deal. If you want to tag along, great, if not, you’re welcome to make your own way someplace else.” Erik wiped his brow, and then took Pippa’s hand. “Peter, Freya, come on, we’re going.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Quinn. “It’s got to be worth a shot.”
Terry followed Quinn, and Mrs Danick followed her, mumbling something about wanting to find a comfy chair and get off her feet.
“Dakota?” Jonas held out his hand to her, but she shoved him away, and began walking after the others. Something was irritating her, yet it was more than the usual, more than just the nagging presence of the dead that surrounded them. He had to sort this out once and for all. Jonas jogged to catch her up, and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.
“Let go of me,” Dakota said trying to shake Jonas off.
“Everything okay, dear?” asked Mrs Danick pausing.
“It’s fine,” said Jonas as he held onto Dakota. “We’ll be right behind you.”
“Make sure you are. It’s too damn hot to argue,” said Mrs Danick quietly, leaving Jonas and Dakota alone.
When Mrs Danick was out of earshot, Dakota looked at Jonas. “I said let go of me. What do you think you’re doing?”
Jonas refused to let go of Dakota’s arm, no matter how much she struggled. “This ends now,” he said. “Quit struggling, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to talk. What’s with you?”
Dakota pulled her arm free, rubbing it as she stood there trying to avoid her husband’s questioning eyes. “We should get going. We don’t want to get left behind.”
Jonas positioned himself in front of her, stopping her from walking away to the others. “No way. This has got to stop, Dakota. I don’t get it. Are you pissed with me? Something I said, or did? Look, we don’t have time to argue, or have a meltdown over something minor. You can’t afford to get offended if I say the wrong thing. We have to keep on our toes. Let’s leave the arguments behind us, please? Can’t we just forget it?”
A faint breeze came through the open field beside them, twisting the air into knots, and it carried with it the scent of death. Jonas saw how the fields were dying, the crops unattended, and weeds sprang forth from every possible place. He could understand anyone losing hope in a world like this, but he couldn’t stand to see it in Dakota. He needed to know she was still on his side.
“Dakota, whatever I did to you, I‘m sorry. All I’ve ever done is look out for you. Everything that I do is to protect you, to make sure you still have enough life left in you to get up in the morning. No matter what, even if you lost your faith in me, I will never stop loving you. Tell me what’s wrong. Please, honey, I…”
“You don’t stop. You never stop.” Dakota spoke quietly. She turned to look at the fence, and her eyes followed it until she turned back to Jonas. “We should follow Erik. If the golf course behind this fence is intact, we need to rest. We need to regroup. If you still want to go to Janey then, I won’t stop you.”
“You mean if we still want to go?”
Dakota shrugged. “Maybe. I...I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure it’s the best idea to leave Kentucky. I mean, look at me. Look at yourself, Jonas. You really think you can make it to Canada?”
“Yes, I do.” Jonas truly believed in what he was saying. There was something else though. It wasn’t the journey that Dakota was worried about. She kept referring to him and her, as if they weren’t a couple, as if they were headed on different paths. “Canada is our future. We can find Janey, start afresh, and leave this shit behind us. Kentucky isn’t home anymore. It hasn’t been my home for a long time, since long before my father died, but I’m not going anywhere without you, Dakota. I’ll get us there. Both of us.”
Dakota sighed, and they both began walking down the road after the others. She walked slowly, so as to remain out of earshot of Mrs Danick. Some things were best kept private.
“Jonas, I love you, but…”
A swelling storm above Jonas’s head mushroomed, the white clouds turning grey, looming over him and turning black as they popped and fizzed with electricity. An icy wind ran through his body, chilling his blood, and his head felt like it was on fire. He bit his tongue between clenched teeth, the pressure bringing him back to reality.
Dakota had fallen silent. He had gotten this far with her, and he couldn’t stop now. As much as he didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence, he had to know.
“But…”
“Yesterday, back at the farm, Mrs Danick and Terry were talking about the coast aga
in. They were wondering if, with our new found arsenal, we might be able to make it south. I don’t think they’re serious, they just need something to believe in you know, something to keep them going. Anyway, Quinn was walking around the barn outside, with Pippa, making sure we were in the clear while you and Erik searched the house. Peter was trying to coax Freya into talking, and getting nothing out of her as usual, which left me alone with Tyler. He was in a lot of pain, Jonas, and I felt so helpless. I wanted to help him, truly I did, but what could I do? By the end, I think he had numbed himself to the pain, and just accepted what was happening.”
Jonas could see Dakota was on the brink of tears. Did she hold him responsible for Tyler’s death? “We looked in the house for medicine, but there was nothing. I tried, Dakota, but you can’t blame me for…”
“Damn it, Jonas, just shut up and listen for a minute, will you? Stop trying to second guess me. Stop trying to rule my fucking life. At least while I still have one.”
“Okay, sorry, go on.” Jonas saw up ahead the others had stopped, and were looking at the fence. Whatever was eating away at Dakota, he had to get it out of her now. Once they caught up with Erik, he would lose her again. He had lost track of what he was saying sorry for anymore, but he knew more than to question his wife when she was on a roll.
“Tyler was dying while you and Erik were fighting. What the hell were you doing?”
As Dakota wiped a tear from her eye, Jonas saw the cut on her wrist was healing up. He felt guilty about the fight with Erik, but he couldn’t change the past, and he had already apologised for that. He decided that Dakota wasn’t really looking for an answer. She was venting, opening up to him, and this time he was going to listen.
“While you were wasting time in the farmhouse, I was caring for Tyler as best I could. Other than holding his hand, there was very little I could do. I kept telling him he was going to be fine, that you were going to find help.” Dakota looked accusingly at Jonas, then back at the road. “Before he died, Tyler talked to me. Not much. He was too weak. He told me about his parents, and how they had been killed at the start. He told me he missed them. He told me how sad he was to be leaving us, but pleased he would see them again.” Dakota wiped a tear away, but as soon as she had wiped one away, another took its place.
