Survival Kit

by Haga, A. H.

My first thought was of the station in Drammen, but I pushed it aside. No way was I going back there again. But where was the next one? I didn’t know, as I’d never taken the train down this way, but I was pretty sure the line ran along the ocean. In theory, I should be able to find the track and just follow it South to the next station. Hopefully, Shadia would be there, waiting for me. I didn’t want to consider what it would mean if she wasn’t there.

  Instead of thinking about the what-ifs, I started preparing for the journey. It was slow going, as any movement hurt, and I ended up taking a multitude of naps, but finally, I thought I was ready.

  When the alarm on my clock woke me the next morning, I started by taking in the bottles I’d let stand outside in the rain to fill up. The rain had become a drizzle now, leaving the bottles half-full, but that would have to do. Carrying two full bottles would probably be too heavy for me anyway. I’d slept in my clothes, hoping to limber them up a little, so all that was left was to pull on my boots. After that, I pulled on the messenger bag, fastening it around my waist with my belt to make sure it would not get in the way, then I grabbed the two pieces of wood I’d hacked loose from the boat with my knife. I tied them over my knees using the one bandage that had been in my bag. I did the same with two smaller pieces of wood on my hands but kept the bandage loose enough that I could pull my hands free fast if I needed to. Finally, I pulled on my raincoat and put on the spare sunglasses from my messenger bag.

  After a short rest, I left the safety of the boat.

  The world wasn’t as hazy as I had feared, and with the protection of the wood pieces, the crawling wasn’t as painful as it could have been. It was still slow going, as I often had to rest, and I hurt a lot from the position I was in.

  Noon came with a change in scenery. The stony ground turned to a path running between stiff, high grass. It was well-trodden and had probably been popular with people going to the ocean.

  I rested at the mouth of the path, giving myself an hour of lying curled up partly under a bush and just breathing. My muscles were vibrating, but not shaking. The rest helped, and when I was sure I could move without triggering further vibrations, I took another painkiller and drank what was left of my cola. I should probably have saved it, but I needed to find the tracks before dark. From there, it shouldn’t be far to the next station, and they probably had cola I could drink there–not to mention food.

  Thoughts of food on my mind, I started crawling up the path. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew a meal would do me good. I had two bags of jerky in my bag, but I hadn’t dared to touch them. Who knew how many zombie-worm eggs I’d swallowed in the river? Or might have come down with the rain I’d been drinking since? I thanked the stars I’d been clear enough those first days not to eat the jerky, or I might not have been crawling along now.

  That thought gave my stubbornness an extra boost, and we crawled on, my stubbornness and me.

  As the gray light of day started to turn to night, houses appeared out of the gloom.

  The path had let up to a parking lot, empty and quiet, and from there, I found a road to follow, hoping it would take me to the train station. But no, it had taken me into a neighborhood instead. I sniffed as tears of frustration and fear started rolling down my cheeks, mixing with the rain.

  If I didn’t find the tracks soon, there was no saying what would happen. Or, there was, but I didn’t want to think about it. I’d crawled across a smaller road on the way here. I could go back to that and hope it led to the station, but if I hadn’t found the tracks by now, I was sure they must be further inland. Either way, I wasn’t sure I could handle turning back right now. Not when I was so tired, and my mind felt a little like it was breaking. As best I could, I crawled into the neighborhood.

  The houses that rose around me were big and well kept, with large yards and probably too many rooms to count. Some of the houses even had stone lions guarding their driveway.

  Without giving it much thought, I crawled into the first driveway I reached. It held a double garage on one side and a huge white house in the middle, with three broad stone steps leading to the front door.

  I crawled up and leaned my back against the door, breathing and crying a little more. I was maxed out on the strong painkillers, but as I sat there and watched the last of the light disappear, I took a Paracet, hoping it would bolster my regular meds.

  When my breathing grew shallow and relaxed and my eyelids were so heavy I could hardly keep them open anymore, I turned and knocked on the door. No one answered or moved on the inside, so I tried the knob. The door was locked–no surprise there.

  Pulling myself to my knees, I used one of the plank-pieces to break the flimsy window beside the doorknob. It had a sticker on it claiming there was a house alarm, but I didn’t think anyone would come to check why the alarm had been triggered, if it was triggered at all. Alarms needed power, right?

  After cleaning out the splinters of glass with the plank-piece, I reached inside and turned the knob. The door opened without a sound, and I crawled inside, kicking it shut behind me.

  The Fog was creeping closer and closer, but somehow I locked the door behind me and crawled deeper into the house, finding a small bathroom first.

  I undressed to my underwear, leaving my clothes in a wet heap on the marble floor, and managed to stand and turn on the taps. There was still water in the pipes here as well, so I washed my hands and arms with a rose-scented soap before I stole some of the mouthwash standing in one of the cabinets. I pushed the bottle into my bag before I used one of the plush towels to dry off. A fleece robe hung on the inside of the door, and I shuffled into it before I sank down to the floor again.

  Cleaning up had been such an automatic action that The Fog had moved to the back of my mind again. Able to think a little clearer, I started looking around and soon found the kitchen.

  I looked through the lower cabinets and the part of the fridge that I could reach without standing up. It was full of vegetables and containers of prepared food, some of it still looking edible, not to mention the whole inside of the door was full of bottles of different flavored sparkling water. Most of them were unopened. I pulled out all the containers and opened them one after another, finding mostly vegetarian meals.

  Taking one of the big bottles of sparkly water and a box of fried noodles and greens that still looked OK with me into the living room. I crawled onto the soft sofa, pulled a furry blanket over my cold limbs, and started eating.

  When I almost fell asleep while chewing, I put the container on the glass table and curled up, falling asleep almost before I’d found a good position.

  32

  I woke at nine p.m. from my alarm and had to look around a little to find my bag. I’d left it at the foot of the sofa, but it took me a moment of panic to remember. With my long-term meds in my stomach, I forced down two mouthfuls of rice and vegetables and drank from the water bottle. It was big and heavy for me to move, so I soon put it down, cap just barely on, and fell asleep again.

  I slept right through the night and didn’t remember taking my evening or morning meds. Instead, I woke just after noon, and it took me a moment to remember where I was.

  After eating and drinking a little more and doing my stuff in the bathroom, I started looking around the house. I didn’t even pretend to consider going upstairs, but there was more than enough for me to see on the ground floor.

  I found a washing room with freshly folded clothes and looked through them until I found a pair of jeans, socks, and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt I thought would fit me and not itch too much. Anything had to be better than the salt-crusted fabrics I’d left in the bathroom. Leaving the robe behind, I dressed in my new finds. They were all a little too big, but considering the fabrics were mostly new to me, that wasn’t a problem. If they’d been tighter, I might have had trouble with them itching or hurting my sensitive skin. I wouldn’t have minded a new set of underwear either, but no matter how freshly clean they were, I would not use the underwear of someon
e else. No way, no how.

  I’d noticed a bunch of boy’s clothes while I looked, and snooping around some more proved that a teenage boy had lived here. In the hallway, I found well-used sneakers, and a school bag in the kitchen. The tab on the inside said ‘Christopher’, but I tried to forget that as soon as I saw it. In the living room, I found a bunch of DVDs for teenagers and some for adults. It was a big collection, and if there had been any power, I might have let myself forget about the real world and follow Batman as he fought the Joker. In the bathroom I’d used earlier, I found anti-acne cream and a lot of hair products. Looking in the mirror, I let my hair out of its tired braid and was almost shocked to see the green locks fall around my face. It felt like I’d dyed it in a whole other life. Using my dry-shampoo, I tried to clean it as well as I could and had to evacuate the bathroom because of the smell of the chemicals.

  I found a new flashlight, batteries, painkillers, canned food, and matches, but no chewing gum. I missed gum.

  It was almost dinner-time before I found what I was actually looking for. It was hidden in one of the drawers in the kitchen, lying beneath recipes and calendars and phonebooks: a small book of the area for tourists. Flipping it open, I found multiple maps inside.

  Almost weeping with relief, I made my way into the living room again and curled up on the sofa. While forcing down a little more of the fried rice, I flipped through the book in the fading light until I found what I thought must be a map of the area. According to the map, the closest station was Galleberg, but it looked impossibly far away. The good thing was that it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, only small towns around it, so there shouldn’t be many zombies.

  I marked the page and slipped the book into one of the many zip-lock bags in my bag. Still eating, I put everything else I’d found into the bags and stored them in my messenger bag. I’d stolen a few more long-sleeved t-shirts from the washing room, and hopefully, my own clothes would be dry by tomorrow, and I could bring them as well. I wouldn’t get anywhere tonight, so I curled up on the sofa and tried to sleep.

  It wasn’t unusual for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis patients to have trouble sleeping, ironically, but yet again, I was so exhausted after the last few days that I slipped away without trouble.

  The next morning I got up with my alarm, took my pills, and ate the last of the rice before bringing my bag to the bathroom. There, I washed my mouth and body as best I could with the limited resources I had left. I found that my clothes were dry and wrapped them in a big plastic bag to stuff into the messenger bag together with the rest of my catch. It was full to bursting and hard to handle, but I didn’t dare leave any of it behind. Then I dressed and left the house.

  It wasn’t raining anymore, even if the sky was still grey. I hid beneath the cap I’d stolen from the house. It had the Linkin Park logo on it, so I guessed it had belonged to the teenager. I was as good as ready to go, but there was one more thing I wanted to do.

  Taking the key I’d found in one of the kitchen drawers, I crawled on my improvised knee- and hand-pads to the double-garage. The big doors didn’t have any handles, so I guessed they were electric, but the tag on the key said ‘garage’, so I crawled around until I found a door set on the side. Unlocking it, I clicked on my torch and took in the room.

  There was a car on the far side, but without electricity, I couldn’t get it out of the garage, which was a shame. I would have loved to drive to the station. I could drive but had stopped when I became a danger to myself and others because I couldn’t concentrate on the road or what I was doing. Not like there were anyone else I could be a danger to these days.

  Instead, I looked around for anything else that might help me get to the station faster. The beam glinted off matt metal, and I crawled closer, a grin spreading across my lips. A long-board stood against the wall, well kept and well used. Probably the kid’s, but I didn’t think he’d care if I borrowed it. If he and his family ever came back, I was sure they could afford a new one anyway.

  With one hand rested on the long-board to guide it out the door, I turned to leave, but my eyes landed on a hoe standing up against the wall together with some other gardening tools. My smile broadened.

  After two trips, I was ready to go. The street was still wet after the rain, but that wasn’t a problem for the long-board as I sat on it, legs tucked underneath me, holding on to the hoe with both hands and using the butt end of it to push forward.

  33

  According to the map, there was a back-road that went almost all the way to the station without passing through any built-up areas or going close to the freeway. I hoped it was enough to keep me off any zombie-radars. Or living-radars for that matter.

  I soon realized I’d miscalculated–not on the road to take, but on using a long-board to get where I needed to go. While the wheels were amazing on flat ground, this was Norway, and there was hardly any flat space to be found! To get out of the neighborhood and onto the side-road I wanted, I had to push myself up a small hill. Small for cars and bikes and people with working legs; not so small for someone pushing themselves along on a long-board.

  By the time I reached the top, my arms were numb from exhaustion, and I was sweating despite the chill air.

  I allowed myself to rest until my arms hurt from the work-out, then I continued. Thankfully, the road was at a slack downward hill from there, so I mostly had to use the hoe to break. The sound of the metal against asphalt made my teeth hurt, so I pushed in my earbuds when I stopped next time.

  I didn’t like not being able to hear well, but I trusted I would smell it if any zombies drew close, and I could only hope no one lived out here who might want to hurt me.

  The next two hours were pretty much the same. Pushing up slack hills, resting, then rolling down the other side, hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything. My control of the hoe and long-board had grown fine from the hands-on training, and I’d learned how to move the long-board around on the road, even park it while in the middle of a downward hill. I passed small groups of houses, all deserted, fields, and copses of trees. I didn’t see anyone or anything, and the air was blessedly scent-free. Until it wasn’t.

  I was on my way down another slack hill when the first hint of rot hit my nose. I gagged, almost losing my grip on the hoe in surprise. Turning onto the shoulder of the road, I pulled up my bandana to cover my nose and plucked out my earbuds.

  The sudden sound of the wind in the leaves of the bush beside me made me wince. It took me a moment to be able to hear anything else, but there wasn’t much else to hear. The singing of birds somewhere far away, but no moaning or gurgling of the walking dead. No steps of living people following me either.

  The wind blew in my face again, and I narrowed my eyes to see as far ahead as I could, but trees stood in the way, like a wall against the horizon.

  I pulled out the map-book and flipped through it, trying to guess where I was. There was only one small town between Galleberg and me, and I hadn’t passed that yet.

  Putting the book in my pocket, I plugged in my earbuds again and pushed onto the road. To be safe, I turned the hoe around and used the butt end to steer with, so I had the sharp hoe as a weapon if needed. To avoid losing control, I pushed myself in a zig-zag down the street, keeping my speed down and giving myself more than enough time to look around.

  Reaching the bottom of the hill, I kept to the middle of the road as I neared a line of trees. A sign came into view, telling me I was leaving Viken County and entering Vestfold og Telemark County, which was where the small town was.

  I considered slowing down, give myself enough time to see everything there was to see, but I decided on getting through as fast as I could. I had a headache from the splintered light of the grey day and the sound of the hoe. My arms were tired and full of lactic acid. They were still working, but I feared they might stop if I slowed down. I knew that as long as I kept going, I would be OK. Tired and resistant, sure, but OK. It was when I stopped that things would get bad.


  The trees passed by, and I came to a crossroads. After making sure there were no zombies around, despite the smell having grown stronger, I stopped and double-checked the map. When sure where I was going, I pushed forward.

  The road turned downward into another lazy slope, and I let my speed build up, allowing myself to rest as much as I could. It wasn’t so steep that I had to worry, and I could steer the long-board with my legs.

  Leaning more weight on my right leg to follow the slow turn, bushes and trees changed to buildings ahead. The scent was strong here, and my eyes wanted to jump around and hunt for the source, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road.

  Ahead, another road fed into the one I was on, and something stepped from the opening. On instinct, I lowered my hoe to the ground. The sudden force of the connection dragged the hoe from my hands.

  I screamed and leaned down on the long-board. Gripping the edges and using my body-weight, I was able to zoom past the person, who stumbled to reach me. Behind it, I saw more forms and knew I’d found the source of the smell.

  And I’d just lost my weapon.

  I wanted to look back–to see how far I was from the hoe, and how many zombies might be following me–but I didn’t dare. The hill had gotten steeper, and I was gathering speed. Ahead, there was another turn, running through a small neighborhood. If someone stepped into the road, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to avoid them.

  Thankfully, the ground flattened out as I passed the first house. I still had a lot of speed, but it wasn’t building anymore.

  I managed to stay on the road as I flew through the neighborhood, and slowed enough to use one foot to help me turn onto the next street. The maneuver lost me a lot of speed and I soon slowed and stopped. Barely two houses away from the neighborhood and the zombies there.

  For a moment, panic flooded through me. How would I keep moving without the hoe? It wasn’t like I could stand on the long-board and push forward as intended. Remembering my original plan, I found the pieces of wood for my hands. Before fastening them, I took out my earbuds and stuffed them into my pocket, not bothering with their case. Right now, I just wanted to get as far away as possible.