by Deb Rotuno
“Careful, buddy. You’ll ruin it,” I chided gently with a smile as I watched him pull his hand back. I looked back to Tina. “We’ll have to remember that’s in here.”
“No doubt,” she replied with a laugh. “Mrs. North is great and all, but she sings when she…really, really shouldn’t.”
Grinning, I got back to work. We found another grill, some books that Martin might need to help tutor the kids, and a few hunting supplies in the closet. We’d have to take inventory of ammunition soon. Bullets wouldn’t last forever. I also found another bow-and-arrow set.
“Hey, D?” I called out the door.
“Yes, ma’am?” he grunted and then slammed in another nail or two before he stepped into the doorway, brushing off his hands.
“Here,” I said, holding the quiver of arrows out for him.
“Ah, excellent. I forgot Uncle Rich had these.” He smiled crookedly, looking them and the bow over. “Definitely could use these.”
Janie, who was normally so shy she barely spoke, squeaked from the hall and ran into the living room like hell itself was on her tail. “Spider!” she wailed, running through, only to trip over the rug at the end of the room.
“Careful, sweetie,” I told her, bending down to help her up, but I froze at the sight of a wooden trap door. “No,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. “Derek, is this a basement?”
“Hmm?” he hummed, looking up from his newly acquired toy, only to smile. “Nah. Knowing Aunt Dottie? That’s probably a bunker…a bomb shelter. The cabin I sold to your dad had one too, but it flooded out.”
“Huh,” I sighed, looking to Janie, whose face was sweet and curious. She was an adorable girl, with light-brown hair cut into a short bob, hazel eyes, and a face that reminded me of Tinkerbell—like a pretty little elf. “Shall we?” I asked her in a whisper, and she nodded vehemently with a grin on her face.
“Me too! Me too!” Freddie said, dropping to his knees beside us.
“Okay, you two roll back the rug,” I instructed, standing up out of the way. I squatted down again and hooked my finger into the pull of the trapdoor, lifting it.
The smell was damp and earthy. The air was cool, almost cold, as it whooshed out from beneath the cabin. Freddie handed me a lantern, and when I shined it down into the basement, I saw a staircase leading down below.
Looking between the kids, I said, “Let me go first, and then you guys can come down. Okay?”
The two nodded, wide-eyed and about to shake out of their skin with curiosity. I envied their ability to see adventure at every turn. To them, the whole new world was an adventure, despite the ugly parts they’d seen already. So their sweet faces made me smile. I hoped to hell they kept that outlook.
The air was stale, cool, and damp down below, but my mouth fell open as to what was inside: everything Dottie needed in some sort of medical emergency. First-aid supplies lined the shelf—gauze, tape, surgical equipment, even a suture kit. There was even a cot down there. Along the other wall were other supplies—water, charcoal, and a few canned goods. All of it could be put to use.
Derek descended the steps, his eyes wide. “Well, holy shit,” he drawled, gazing slowly around. “Now ain’t this helpful?” He grinned at me when I laughed.
“No kidding,” I said softly, nodding a little. “Well, we’ll make use of this stuff, for sure. And this hidden bunker-basement thing…This is perfect for storage.”
He spun on me. “And hiding,” he added, his eyes flickering up to the two kids peering down at us. “Fuck, Sare…This will keep them and the older folks safe should a pack come through here.”
“Pack…or not-so-friendly survivors,” I added slowly.
Derek thought in silence for a moment, finally nodding. “Okay, good to know. Let’s leave the medical supplies down here, get a count on the food and water, and we’ll tell the others about this place. We’ll set up some sort of emergency plan. This cabin will be a safe zone.”
Nodding and waving the kids down, I got to work going through the supplies on the shelf. I tried not to think about Jack or his parents, though knowing Rich and Dottie like I did, they’d have been perfectly fine with what we were doing. I shut out my hurting heart that they, along with Jack and Joel, were not here to see it…or even give permission. I hoped I’d be able to ask for forgiveness one day, but even that seemed like too much to ask.
But…like I’d told my son, I could still hope.
Chapter 5
JACK
Florida-Alabama State Line
2.5 Months after Hurricane Beatrice
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we are just about out of Florida,” Joel muttered, pulling the Hummer into a parking lot next to a few abandoned cars. “Please keep all hands inside the vehicle until it comes to a complete stop,” he rambled on, but he probably meant that shit.
“Thank fuck,” I grumbled, giving the parking lot we were in an assessing gaze as I got out, Sasha right behind me. “That took way longer than it damn well should have.”
I pulled my gun from my back to my front, checking the silencer before slipping into the roadside motel’s office. We’d learned by trial and error once we’d pulled out of Dexter AFB. Noise drew the zeaks in faster than anything, which meant gunfire was a last resort. However, to save time, avoid up-close contact, and clear our way quickly, guns were the better option. Joel had been really vigilant about the ammo and guns we’d taken from the base, and silencers had been among them—for both handguns and rifles. Though, his crazy ass had found a Marine’s dress/ceremony sword on base and had sharpened it enough he could probably shave with the damn thing. Most of one Hummer was taken up with ammo and camping equipment, while the other carried food, clothes, and medical supplies. But tonight, we’d wanted a bed and running water.
I found keys to two separate yet adjoining rooms hanging on a pegboard, smirking Joel’s way. “At least we don’t need power for these. Those keycard locks don’t do us any fucking good if we have to break in to use them.”
“Just pray the fucking water’s runnin’,” he countered as he poked around the office. “Cold or not…I don’t care.”
“No shit,” I sighed, looking down at Sasha, who usually stuck to me like glue. “We’re clear, girl?”
She wriggled in response, happy as a clam as she panted heavily. Her demeanor when things were clear was easy and light, but if she sensed zeaks, she was tense, rigid, and fierce. Bringing her along had been a damn good idea, though Joel and I were attached to her, simply because she was the first good thing we’d found in Florida…and the last. She’d proved herself not only helpful as hell but a walking, growling alarm against zeaks and survivors with bad intentions.
Dad was standing guard along the sidewalk in front of the row of motel rooms. Mom was still inside the Hummer they’d been driving the last two weeks. My dad wanted one more vehicle, but not until we’d made it out of Florida, maybe the South altogether. He was hoping for a decent RV but would probably settle for a pickup truck, something with which he could pull a camper.
I tossed a key his way, and he caught it one-handed. “Lucky thirteen, Dad,” I told him with a grin.
“Lucky indeed,” he replied as we walked to twelve first. “We’ll sweep both rooms and then open the door between. Okay?”
“Sir,” Joel said with a single nod, slipping the key into the room he and I would share for the next few hours.
We used flashlights and the Hummer’s headlights to let us see inside. It was two beds, a dresser, and a beat-up TV, all representative of an old motel. The room looked clean, not that we’d care, and I stepped through to the bathroom, calling clear.
When we’d done the same to my parents’ room and propped open the door between them, we unloaded enough supplies and clothes for the night.
I gazed around again. We were just outside the edge of Pensacola, not far from crossing over into Alabama. We’d passed between Blackwater River State Forest and Eglin AFB earlier in the day. We hadn’t even stopped. It had been a cess
pool of zeaks wandering in swarms. Hell, the whole state had been that way. We were hoping that, once we were out of the dear, sweet Sunshine State, which had been ground zero for this virus, things would get better. We weren’t holding our breaths.
We’d traveled up through central Florida, having to avoid most major highways—75 had been sporadic with open roads and I-4 had been a fucking morgue, but we’d occasionally had to switch over to 41. The back roads had been easier. We’d seen more attacks than we could count and tried to help a few people along the way who were simply trying to stay alive and hunker down. A few of the bigger cities had been destroyed—some in part to Hurricane Beatrice, and some looked like they’d waged war. Parts of Orlando had been on fire as we’d driven through. Our guess was that survivors fighting back had gotten out of hand, though we could tell that martial law had been implemented in some places and had fallen. Occasionally the sound of explosions would reach us all the way to where we’d camped that night. To see Disney World in flames had been a strange and surreal experience.
Just before we’d reached I-10 to turn west, we’d driven through farm country—horses, specifically. Fields burned, horses attacked and eaten, and several farmers guarded their property with weapons that rivaled ours. We’d been allowed to camp one night but no more. Unfortunately, it was then we’d fought the hardest. The swarm that had moved through that night was the biggest any of us had ever seen, and we’d tried to save every member of that family on the farm, but we’d barely gotten our own asses out of there intact. It was there we’d seen just how quickly the infection was spreading.
“Son, you want me to take first watch?” Mom asked, and I smiled over at her, shaking my head.
“No, go ahead and take a break,” I told her, leaning into her kiss to my cheek.
She may have been my mother and a damn good doctor, but she was just as much a trained officer as the rest of us. She could handle guns and tough situations with a calm assertion that would probably shock her lady friends back in Sandy.
That thought made my chest ache with homesickness. I was homesick for my wife, my son, our house…all of it. I tried not to dwell on just how bad things had turned and what Sandy could look like now.
“You okay, Jack?” she asked, placing a hand on the side of my face and making me look her way, though she didn’t believe my nod whatsoever. “Try again, sport.”
I grinned briefly but looked down before back at her. “I was thinking about Ocala. They…that was…They were turning in less than a minute. I’m not even sure it took thirty seconds.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, nodding a little. “Yeah, the virus has changed, adapted. You did everything you could to save that boy.”
Frowning, I sighed wearily. “He was protecting his grandfather, which worked, but in running out to the barn, he signed his own death warrant. I tried to stop him.”
“I know. His family knew too.”
“If they’re changing that fast…” I started but looked over when my dad and Joel joined us.
“If I’m estimating correctly, then I’d be willing to bet most of the world is gone,” Dad stated, slapping my shoulder. “Go. I’m taking the first watch. I want all of you rested when we leave tomorrow. We’ve got to drive around Pensacola, not to mention try to get around Mobile. Once we’re in Alabama, we can turn north a bit, but the large cities are too dangerous, not to mention the roads are deadlocked…Um, no pun intended,” he said with a snort, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I’m gonna guess we’ll need to start thinking about food somewhere around Mississippi or Arkansas, if we’re turning northwest,” Joel added. “We can hunt in some of the woods along the way, but we’ll need some things by then, I think. And then there’s gas. I’ll check these cars in the morning.” He pointed to the few around us.
“I agree.” I nodded, removing the rifle from my shoulder. “Give me a few hours, and I’ll relieve you.”
“Sure, son,” Dad said with a weary smile, and he turned to my mother. “You too. Go on inside. I’ve got this.”
“Smack the windows if you need us,” Joel ordered, pointing to the two side-by-side windows.
Dad nodded and then faced the parking lot. We had no choice but to watch out for ourselves this way. Some survivors didn’t always approach with the best of intentions, and swarms could sneak up on us, especially at night or in the rain. Damn, if the rain didn’t make them worse, even more disgusting than they already were.
Sasha was curled up in the doorway between the rooms, and Joel went about pouring her some food and water.
“You take the first shower, Jacky. Let the water run a bit before you get in,” he said, scrunching up his nose. “You never know how long it’s been in those pipes.”
I nodded, grabbing my gear and a battery-operated lantern. I turned on the water in the shower, leaning in to the mirror. I rubbed the beard that had grown over the last two weeks of travel, smirking at myself at just how much my Sara would’ve hated it. She preferred smooth skin and to be able to see my face. Groaning at how badly it was going to sting shaving with cold water, I turned the tap on anyway and pulled out soap and a razor.
Once my face was smooth, I stepped inside the shower, hissing at the cold water, but proceeded to make quick work of washing. Dirt, grime, sweat, blood…It all washed down the drain in a muddy color. Small scratches stung, old bruises were yellowing, and my sore muscles tensed, but by the time I stepped back out, I felt a thousand times better—almost normal, relaxed.
I pulled on clean cargo pants, leaving my shirt off for the night. When I stepped back out into the room, Joel was putting together something for us to eat.
“It ain’t a steak dinner, but it’ll have to do,” he said, pushing a can of beef stew my way. He’d gotten really good at using cans of Sterno—one of the things we’d found on base—to heat shit up in a hurry without building a full-blown fire, which could attract the zeaks out of nowhere.
“I’ll take it. Thanks,” I sighed, falling down on the edge of the bed and pushing myself up to the headboard.
Sasha hopped up there with me, laying her head on my thigh as I finished the whole can.
“You could use a bath too, big girl,” I told her, and her sleepy amber eyes rolled up to my face before falling closed again. I ran a hand over her head for a few minutes, grateful for the quiet night.
I had to have dozed off at some point, because I snapped awake at the low, rumbling growl Sasha was emitting. Her face was fierce, her lips twitching, and her ears perked up. Glancing at the other bed, I saw Joel sit up.
“What is it?” I whispered, and he shook his head, stepping up to the window that we’d left open just to hear my dad.
It was then that we heard a sharp tap on our window. We jumped into action, pulling on T-shirts and boots, strapping on weapons, and opening the door.
The sun was just peeking over the trees in the east to a cloudy day, but it gave us a much better view of our surroundings, allowing us to see what had been cloaked in darkness the night before. Across the way was a rather large strip mall, but it was the dark-green van tearing out of the parking lot that had my dad—and Sasha—on alert. The dog was bristled, with her head low and her growl continuing nonstop. She stepped forward but stayed between Joel and me.
“I heard gunshots coming from that Wal-Mart,” Dad said softly, jerking his chin across the way.
I rubbed my face to wake up a little more, glancing over when my mother stepped out of her room fully dressed and armed, which was damned good timing, as the van swerved out of the parking lot of the mall and into our motel one.
The side door slid open with a bang, allowing the sound of curses, arguing, and yelling out into the quiet morning. A tall red-haired girl was ejected from the van, a backpack tossed at her feet.
“Tucker, stop! You can’t do this! We have to go back for my sister!” She sobbed, snatching up her bag, but before she could reach for the van, the tires squealed, the door slammed closed, and the driver fl
ipped her off as he turned out onto the street.
The girl collapsed to her knees, and sobs met my ears. It was my mother who moved first. She shouldered her weapon and approached the girl carefully.
“Aw, fuck me,” I sighed, following behind her.
We didn’t know the girl, and there was no telling what her problem was, but I couldn’t let my mother go to her alone, which proved a good thing when the girl suddenly lashed out.
“Don’t fucking touch me! I have to…You don’t…” she rambled through tears and curses and snot, but when she shoved my mother, Joel and I reacted instantly. He went to Mom, and I dodged a slap or two before securing the girl’s arms behind her back.
She was strong as hell and fought me tenaciously, but I held her arms tight. My eyes narrowed in on a bruise or two along her face and arms. My hope was that she got them fighting zeaks, not the asshole who’d just dumped her off and left her for dead.
“Calm down!” I snarled in her ear. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”
“Let me go, let me go, let me go,” she chanted, going silent when Joel knelt in front of her.
“He can hold you all damn day, princess, or…you can settle the fuck down,” he warned her.
“My sister!” she cried, looking across the street to Wal-Mart. “He…he…The motherfucker just left her!”
My mother stepped away, giving the store a long gaze, but my father had binoculars. “Zeaks,” he stated grimly. “A shit-ton of them, or at least the movement I see inside makes me think there are too many.”
“She’s only thirteen!” She finally sagged, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Please, please let me go.”
“Can you stay calm?” I asked her, and she nodded.
I released my hold on her, and she squirmed away, scrambling to her feet. She picked up her bag, rummaging around in it until she came out with what looked like a damn steak knife. When she started across the street, my mother stopped her again.
“You can’t go in there, sweetheart,” she told her, shaking her head. “It’s a death sentence.”
