by M. D. Massey
“Yeah, well neither did I,” he replies barely more than a whisper. “I had to watch the world fall apart around me. I mean, if my parents hadn't built this place, we wouldn't be here. We would have died along with everyone else. Sometimes I wish we had. But I used to go to school. I had friends and everything. It was nice. I may not have thought so at the time, but it was nice.
“Then the whole world goes to hell. Everyone says you have a way to put it back together, back the way things were before. Something about your blood. Ash, you can save everyone if you wanted to, and you don't want anything to do with it. The truth is, you are nothing more than a selfish little girl.”
I lean back in my seat, his words stinging. Staring down into my coffee mug as if to search for the answer, I realize that on some base level he is right. It's true, I don't want any of it, and it's also true that this is selfish.
“They don't need me,” I say. “They are trying to make another one like me. They'll get it right eventually. It's just timing, that's all. They'll find the variable.”
I stand to leave but pause before exiting the room. I slowly set down the coffee mug, placing each hand on the table and lean over to speak directly into his face.
“You're one to talk, you know? Sitting here wishing for things to be how they were. You have a chance to help people out of this. You are part of something that gives people hope. Yet here you are whining about the past. It's over, Ezekiel. Moving forward is the only option. Survival is all we have left. So if I'm being selfish then you are just as guilty as I am.”
I grab my empty mug and vanish to the kitchen, leaving him in my wake.
The screen door claps shut once more after Alma and Travis enter the living room. Alma's hair is pulled into a tight bun, unable to hide the uncombed tangles and bits of hay. They laugh at some shared joke as they stumble into the living room, fingers entwined.
Eden returns from the garden, arms laden with plump tomatoes which she begins to wash under the tap. I hear Ezekiel leave the dining area without another word, leaving me with a sense of unease. I make a move to help with the tomatoes and catch a glimpse of Alma, draped on the couch with her head on Travis' shoulder. For a moment I envy them, and their ability to grab these small moments of joy. Regardless, I also know there is a great deal of preparation before returning to the compound tonight. My unease will have to wait until another time.
* * *
“How many should we plan for, do you think?” Eden says.
We stand by the front door of the warehouse at the farthest edge of the property close to the tree line. At the back end of the building, two cargo doors stand open, revealing the contents inside. The left part of the structure holds a line of parked vehicles, including my blue truck. The other vehicles include a small red car with a pale brown canvas top, a rusted tractor normally driven by Abraham in the garden, and a large white van with the words Heavenly Blessings First Church of the Redeemer printed in scrolling red letters along the side.
“There are at least twenty of them that I know of so far.”
“Ah,” Eden walks down the length of the parked vehicles, pausing in front of the truck, before resuming her slow gait. She continues until she stops in front of the white van, tapping her fingers against her chin. “We'll take out the seats. The point is to get them out quickly. We'll have to fortify the front. Let's see that map there.”
I pull it from the side pocket of my backpack and hand it to her. She spreads the paper out on the slanted hood of the church van, flattening out the folded image of the compound. Squinting, she runs her finger along the path up to the line in red ink, marking the weakness in the wall, the place we must breach to get back inside.
“And you are sure they'll be waiting?” Eden says.
“They'll be ready,” I say, hoping that I am right.
“And if what you say about the perimeter is right then we'll have to move fast.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “We'll have to beat the horde circumventing the outer walls.”
“It's going to be risky. If they're not there for some reason...”
“They'll be there,” I say.
Eden steps back from the map. “There is one more thing, Ash.”
“What is it?”
She motions for me to follow. The other side of the warehouse is divided into walled cubicles. One is filled with dry goods, toilet paper, toothpaste, and other commodities. The next shelf contains canned food items, shelves of glass jars, sealed most likely by Eden herself in preparation for the coming doomsday.
“Ah, here.” Eden approaches the third alcove. “I believe we have something which belongs to you.”
Among the weapons, long guns, and blades, I spot my crossbow. Alone on a shelf, fully stocked quiver with the safety latch still on. Eden steps forward lifting it with one hand under the barrel. She extends my weapon with an apologetic smile. “I think you might be needing this?”
The weight of my weapon in my hands makes me realize how much I missed having it with me, the feeling of security, and yes, the thrill of victory at watching one of those monsters crumple when my aim is true. Having it back is the closest thing to home that I know.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tucking the strap over my shoulder. “Thank you, Eden.”
She offers a quick smile before turning her attention back to the vehicles.
15
The two vehicles trundle along the outer edge of the compound wall, a large, looming edifice alongside the road. The white van is fortified with planks of metal welded to the front, a wedge of steel, added by Eden and some of the others earlier in the day. I sit in the back of the blue truck, which is following behind the van, my crossbow resting on my knees.
“Ready for acceleration,” Travis says, his voice crackling through the walkie-talkie clipped to my belt.
Ezekiel picks up to return the message. “Ten-four, good buddy!”
I give him a nod through the window, lifting the crossbow and shifting my weight to press up against the cab for the impact. The ground gets rough as we veer off the road towards the gap in the chain link fence. My stomach flip-flops as the air rushes past me. The vehicle's noise is gaining the attention of a huddle of zombies cresting the slope of the landscape. I crouch and brace myself. Several seconds pass as we ricochet over the rough terrain, building momentum.
The wall hurtles towards us.
We hit hard.
My feet scoot out from under me on impact as we breach the wall. Both vehicles screech to a halt. We are inside the library. A gaping, jagged hole appears through the settling dust. In the distance, a gathering clutch of zombies lurches towards us, drawn by the explosion of sound.
I stand and lean against the cab, taking in the surroundings. Someone had pushed over the shelves. There is a sea of broken books surrounding the two vehicles. In the clearing haze, I spot Thorn opening the door of the van, already escorting the others inside, as easy as clockwork. He catches my eye and we exchange a quick nod.
“Get in the middle,” I call over the group. “And stay down, away from the windows!”
The first edge of the clutch filters through, a hive of errant ants. We do not have much time before the place will be filled with them. The door to the library rattles and Thorn's head whips around. I notice that one of the bookshelves leans up against the doors, locking us inside. Whatever happened, they've been pursued. I keep my arrow aimed at the door. Travis rolls down the window on the driver's side, arching out his head to check the surroundings.
“Go!” Thorn calls, sliding the door shut and slapping the side of the van.
The van's wheels spin out against the carpet as Travis struggles to turn the steering wheel. Thorn jogs over and leaps into the truck bed with me, just as our makeshift caravan pulls forward.
“Get in the cab!” I yell as Thorn hops over the tailgate. “It’s safer there.”
“No time,” comes his reply.
“Then stay down and don't get in my way.”
The creatures lurch past us, unable to grasp anything. I don't feel bad about them taking over the compound. As large as this place is, the people inside must have a safe room to hide in. They have more at their disposal than they would ever let on.
We surge forward. I shift to my knees and scoot forward to the end of the truck bed, aiming the bow out over the tailgate. Thorn is behind me, crouched and huddled. Already, I can see that more zombies are joining the herd. I cannot shoot them all. I pick up the walkie-talkie.
“We have to plow through,” I say.
“We've already punched through a wall,” Travis crackles. “I think we can handle a few crawlies! Let's do this!”
“Are we going to make it?” Thorn asks.
“We're going to make it,” I reply.
The vehicles pick up speed. I take aim, firing off three arrows, taking down as many in the front row. They crumble to the ground, and those behind fall as their feet catch against the bodies, beginning a pile-up. I shoot again, taking down another row towards the middle. Up ahead, the van skirts the rough terrain, hopping the edge of the gravel path.
Maybe it is the mental nudge I get when they are around. I know they are there before anyone sees them. There is another horde at the edge of the tree line. If we take the road towards the farm, we'll run right into them. We are surrounded.
“What's wrong?” Thorn asks from his position against the back of the cab.
“We're not going to make it.” I bring the walkie to my face. “Ezekiel, is there another path to the farm?”
“Negative,” he replies. “The main drive is the only way.”
“There's a wall of them coming out of the trees. Too many for me to take down.”
“Can we punch through?”
I look back. We have put some distance on the compound. I have to make a decision. “I'll try my best. Just make sure you both keep the wheels on the road. Over.”
“Do your thing, Ash!” Travis interjects.
“Can you shoot?” I ask Thorn.
He nods.
“Take the bow.”
He stands and leans in, shoulder to shoulder with me. Concentrating is difficult with the movement of the vehicles, but I do my best to tune everything out. Immediately, I feel something different about them. They are communicating with each other. The ones behind us have somehow beckoned the ones coming out of the forest. The link is strong and animal, nothing but desire and hunger.
I find it, letting my mind stretch out. My breath catches. I push back.
They ease away, slowing their shuffling steps. Not enough. There are too many of them. I push back harder, the energy leaving my body. To my left, Thorn shoots an arrow at the first one appearing out of the tree line, catching it in the shoulder. I close my eyes, relax my mind, and push again.
They hit the van like a tidal wave, but somehow both vehicles stay upright. They slide around us. Using every ounce of strength left in me, I push against them once more. A bubble of space begins to form around the two vehicles, sliding in tandem down the road. I don't realize I am shaking until I feel Thorn's arms around my shoulders, guarding me as I keep them at bay. The truck plunges forward, my hair whipping in the wind.
“Yeeeeehaw!” Travis shouts from the open window up ahead, pounding the flat of his hand against the metal frame of the door. I keep my concentration focused, squeezing my eyes closed, finding the connection with them and pushing... pushing... pushing them away.
* * *
My eyes open when the vehicle comes to a stop. We are inside the first layer of fencing and Ezekiel is jogging to pull the gate closed behind us, locking us into safety. Alma has come out to meet us and is pulling open the second gate.
“Are we safe?” I gasp.
“We're safe,” Thorn says, his arms still wrapped around my shoulders. “We're safe, Ash. We made it.”
Travis and Alma lead the new arrivals into the house, offering assurances. Thorn stays with me, both of us collapsed against each other in the back of the truck bed. We wait until everyone is inside before we move.
Eden's living room is filled with people. She is in her element, handing out fresh warm rolls and cups of hot coffee. Against the back of the room, Travis lounges on the couch, absently rubbing his left arm. Alma sits draped next to him, eyeing the new arrivals. Bertram comforts Iris, offering her a sip of his coffee. Across from them, the twins sit wide-eyed with their parents on either side. These new arrivals have never been outside the safety of the compound. The collective relief is palpable.
But something feels off.
I scan the room watching for anything amiss. Chatting, coaxed smiles from the gathered few, Alma leaning in and laughing at something Travis just said, his hand resting lightly on her thigh. I wander back to the door, stepping out into the night air.
Moments later, Travis steps out next to me. Without a word he extends his arm out, pulling back the flannel sleeve. In the glow of the moonlight, the clear crescent-shaped outline of a bite mark stands out against his pale flesh.
“Travis--” I gasp.
“Guess I should have rolled up the window, huh?” he says.
* * *
The flickering embers float into the darkening evening sky from the funeral pyre at the top of the mountain. Three days have passed since the rescue from the laboratories. Everyone is gathered for Travis' funeral, knowing he is now free from the horror that may one day befall each one of us. Abraham and Eden each give a eulogy befitting of one who had been a vital part of their community. Alma stands next to me, pinched and silent. She had stayed with him right up to the end, holding his hand and mopping his fevered forehead until it was no longer safe to do so.
The following week consists of everyone preparing for the coming journey. I am assigned to teach knife skills to those ready and able to learn. We gather in the fields outside the warehouses. Now that I know which direction to look, I can just make out the distant outline of the laboratories on the horizon, a blemish in an already broken world. We all meet up after lunchtime for a series of drills, everyone lined in rows, waiting for my instructions.
“I need everyone to partner up today,” I say.
They shuffle around and adjust position. They know from previous sessions to pair up one adult and one child so they can each take turns practicing. I notice Thorn is the odd one out, so I motion him over to partner with me.
“Don't worry,” I say. “I'll go easy on you.”
He pulls up one corner of his mouth and takes position across from me.
“Imagine,” I begin facing the gathered few. “One of you is the approaching creature. Take turns doing this. The fastest way to take one down coming straight on is to sidestep and jab them in the ear. They move slowly, so most of the time this technique is not that difficult. Go ahead and try it.”
Half of them start the pantomime, stumbling towards their partners. There are some giggles from the younger ones. I motion for Thorn to approach me. He rolls his eyes back and hangs his mouth slack in his affected performance. I lunge and mime stabbing him in the ear, and he collapses to the ground, twitching and hacking until his dramatic end. I give him an extended slow clap and everyone joins in the applause, laughing at his exaggerated performance.
I reach out my hand to help him to his feet.
“If you don't have a weapon,” I continue, gathering everyone's focus. “It is possible to sever the spinal cord by hand. It's not optimal, but it's good to know how in case you find yourself in that situation. I'll show you first and then you try it.”
I mime the action, placing my hands on the side of Thorn's head, checking my motions as I pantomime twisting his head around. He play-acts, collapsing while lunging forward. Our feet tangle, sending us both into a fallen heap on the ground in an awkward pile. I land on top of him, face to face. Blood rushes to my cheeks.
We both leap to our feet, brushing off our clothes.
“If that should happen out there,” I say to the watching class. “You are pret
ty much done for, so watch your footing.”
“What else can you tell us about them?” Iris asks.
Everyone turns towards me, waiting for my answer. I realize in that moment that most, if not all of them, have never experienced life outside of the laboratory compound. They've never come face to face with a zombie out in the wild, as I have. They are looking to me to prepare them for that. I only hope I am up to that task.
“They move slowly,” I reply. “Unless instigated. They respond to noise more than anything else. They can't climb or figure out problems, so if you need to get away fast, climbing a tree or finding a high level is a good short-term solution.”
“How many of them are out there?” Bertram asks, placing his hand protectively over Iris's shoulder.
“Less than there used to be. They are most dangerous in groups. Don't think you can outrun them, either. You can go as fast and as far as you can, but eventually, you'll get tired. They never will.”
Eden approaches at the edge of the field, hanging back and watching.
“What's most important,” I say. “Is this. If you can get away, do it. Don't take them on unless you absolutely have to. Does everyone understand that?”
Everyone nods, slow and solemn.
“We have a hard journey ahead. My goal is for everyone to make it.”
“Excellent work, Ash,” Eden says taking a step forward. “You have done a wonderful thing by sharing your knowledge with us. These lessons have served us all well.”
She turns her attention to the group.
“I have just received word that the caravan will be arriving at dawn. We need to be completely ready by sunset. And I want all of you to get plenty of rest. Ash is right. You all have a hard journey ahead.”
Her eagle-eyes survey the group. She offers a quick smile and with a flick of the wrist dismisses everyone. They filter back one by one. Eden catches my eye, giving me a knowing look before following the others back to the house.
I pick up my crossbow, the weight of the strap on my shoulder feeling like an old friend.
