by Megan Berry
“Thanks.” She says.
I nod. It’s the truth. I pull my cell phone back out of my pocket and try my parent’s again. This time the phone doesn’t even ring; it’s dead. I check my battery, and it’s at eighty percent. My hands shake as I put it back in my pocket. In the mirror, I can see Megan giving me a pitying look.
Chapter Three
We drive in silence for a while, passing the occasional vehicle and a few zombies that have wandered onto the road. There’s a group of them in the ditch, hunkered down around something that’s still moving… and I avert my eyes.
“We need a plan,” Megan interrupts my dismal thoughts.
I glance up and see that she’s is looking at me, probably to distract herself from the thing in the ditch. “I thought we had a plan?” I ask dumbly, and Megan shakes her head.
“We know where we want to go, and we know the roads we have to take. But we don’t have a plan, not really. We’re at half a tank of gas, we can’t just pull into town and stop at the gas station.”
Her words make my already sick stomach feel worse. She’s right. Like idiots, neither Abby nor I had even thought to think that far ahead.
I look around at the quiet country road ahead of us, farms dot the landscape here and there, but it’s mostly just open fields. “We should stop at one of these farms and try to find some gas and supplies,” I suggest hesitantly.
Megan beams like I’m her star pupil. “I was thinking the same thing,” she agrees.
My stomach flops at the idea of exiting the rolling safety of the car. “Abby.” I turn back to see if she’s heard the latest development. She doesn’t answer me. I take off my seat belt so I can reach over and shake her gently. She turns to face me; her face is swollen and puffy from crying.
“Did you hear the plan?” I ask. She slowly nods her head like she’s a zombie too.
“Yeah, do whatever you guys want. I don’t care,” She murmurs before turning to face the back of the seat.
Megan is frowning when I turn back around.
“Alright, I guess she can wait in the car,” Megan agrees, but I can tell that she isn’t thrilled with Abby’s lack of participation.
“What about this one?” Megan asks as a small farmyard appears on our left. She is already slowing down, and I am trying to fight the terror that I’m feeling. Stupidly, I didn’t realize this foraging expedition would be happening so soon.
“It’s as good as any,” I agree, even though my voice is shaking.
“I heard on the radio before this whole thing started that you have to aim for the head—just like in the movies, destroying the brain is the only thing that takes them down,” Megan tries to prep me.
At the mention of the radio, I reach over and turn the knob on the stereo. Only static comes through the speakers. I click through every station, but there’s nothing, just like my phone, the radio is dead.
“Wow,” Megan mutters when I finally give up and click the static off.
I feel sick. Is the rest of the world really gone? What about the President and the Armed Forces? Is this just happening in the United States, or is the entire world being overrun?
Megan pulls up as close to the house as we dare and puts the suburban in park. “We need gasoline, weapons, and food,” Megan checks them off on her fingers as she speaks.
“Do you think anyone’s home?” I ask, worry gnawing my stomach at the thought of getting out of this car with all the undead freaks running around and, also, a little bit because I don’t want to break and enter.
There’s an old, rusted-out pickup truck parked near the house, but it doesn’t really look like it runs. We decide that it might have been left behind.
I grip the golf club that hasn’t left my side since this morning, and Megan pulls a tire iron out from beside the door. They are both pretty tough weapons, but, in the face of zombies, they feel like toys.
“Let’s go,” Megan says before throwing open her door.
I take a deep breath and slowly ease open my own door. It makes a squeaking sound that almost has me jumping out of my skin. I feel even more conspicuous—like every zombie within a hundred miles must have heard it. I can’t shake the feeling that, any minute, a zombie is going to reach out from underneath the car and grab my ankles. I move away from the vehicle pretty quickly.
We walk up the rickety wooden steps that lead to the house, and Megan puts her hand on the door knob.
“Wait!” I say in terror, and she looks at me expectantly.
“We should knock first. If there’s anyone alive in there, they’ll come to the door…if there’s anyone dead, they’ll come to the door too, and we’ll be able to see what we’re dealing with.”
Megan looks impressed. “That’s a good idea,” she raises her hand and raps on the door.
I turn around and look behind us to make sure no one is sneaking up on us, even though sneaking doesn’t really seem like a zombie’s style.
The house stands silent. After ten minutes of waiting, neither of us barely breathing, Megan finally turns the knob. We gently push the door open, poised for an attack. The house doesn’t smell like anyone dead has been inside, but we are still cautious as we enter into what looks like a room to store your boots and coats. Megan shuts the door behind us, and I turn and look at her in horror.
“We don’t want anyone following us in,” she reasons.
I nod, that makes sense, even though the idea of being trapped inside this house with zombies is equally as terrifying. The house is bathed in darkness and my hand is sweating on the golf club like crazy; I’m actually scared I’ll drop it.
“I wish we had a flashlight,” I mutter to no one in particular.
“That’s just one more reason why finding supplies is so important,” Megan reminds me before whispering, “Let’s go.”
I nod, but then feel a bit dumb because it’s so dark that she can’t possibly see me. We creep towards the doorway where a bit more light is shining in from some windows. It’s the kitchen. There is a cardboard box sitting on the counter, hastily half-packed. I stare at it, like it’s going to come alive and bite me.
“Why did they leave all their food?” I ask in confusion.
Megan shrugs. “Maybe they had to get out in a hurry?” she suggests.
I walk slowly over to the food and take a peek inside, it’s half full of canned goods and some homemade stuff in jars.
“We should keep looking, make sure this house doesn’t have any zombies, and get out of here.” Megan whispers, coming up beside me to peek in the box.
“The house is clear,” a male voice says from the doorway.
Megan and I both jump. We whirl around to find a guy leaning casually against the doorway. He has a gun in his hand, but it’s pointed at the ground, not at us.
I see Megan take on a fighting stance with her tire iron, swinging it back like a bat, and I do the same.
“What do you want?” Megan demands.
The guy shrugs, “Same as you probably. My truck ran out of gas, and I stopped to see what I could find.”
He’s tall and well built, with sandy blond hair that’s been buzzed short. He kind of looks like he is military by the way he holds himself. He’s wearing a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a shirt that is a bit too small but manages to show off a lot of muscle.
“I’m not going to hurt you guys,” he adds when we don’t relax.
“How do we know you’re not lying?” I ask.
Again, the guy shrugs. “I guess you don’t. My name’s Ryan, by the way.” He tucks his gun into the band of his pants and flashes us an easygoing smile.
I feel a little bit more relaxed once the gun is out of sight, but maybe that’s part of his plan to make us drop our guard. “Where are you headed?” I ask as he goes back to the box of food and continues to pack cans away.
“I don’t know.” His face gets darker, like he’s remembering something bad. “Just try to find somewhere safe, I guess.” He tucks a can of peaches into t
he box and then looks up at us with a piercing blue gaze. “What about you guys?”
“Same,” I say as casually as I can “just trying to find somewhere safe.” I don’t want to let this complete stranger know that we might have a place.
Ryan nods, “I hope there’s somewhere like that left.”
He seems so sad that I’m not really afraid of him anymore.
“Did you find that gun in this house?” Megan asks him.
He nods.
“Were there anymore? Anything for us?”
Ryan looks like he’s thinking something over as he stares at us. “There were a couple,” he admits before walking out of the room and returning a second later with an armload of handguns.
It looks like more than a couple to me. He sets them on the counter, and we both draw closer to look at them.
“Have you ever handled a gun before?” he asks.
I shake my head, but Megan doesn’t answer as she picks up one of the shiny black pieces of metal and pulls out the magazine like some sort of action star. She checks it, pulling out the bullets, reloads the clip, and then slides the magazine back into the gun.
I am a little stunned, and Ryan looks impressed.
Megan sees me looking. “One of my foster dads a few years ago was a gun nut,” she explains.
I nod like that makes perfect sense, but my head is spinning. I am rejoicing that at least one of us knows how to fire a gun. I am really hoping that she will find it in her heart to teach me how to use one too.
“Is there any extra ammo?” Megan asks.
Ryan nods, “There is.” He doesn’t say anything else or offer us any, and we both stare at him.
“Well, can we have some?” I ask.
Ryan looks hesitant. “I’ll give you a couple boxes,” he says after a moment of reflection.
I let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”
I walk over to the pantry and am glad to see there’s actually a lot of stuff left. I grab one of those reusable cloth grocery bags and begin to pack stuff away.
“Well, groceries and guns isn’t bad.” I say with pride as I set our booty by the front door.
Megan mumbles her agreement as she puffs out a tired breath and sets down another heavy box. Ryan has already told us that he’s searched the barn and only found a small container of gas. He helps us haul our boxes out to the suburban. I have to admit I feel much safer with Ryan there.
“Well…thanks,” I say when we are awkwardly facing each other in the entrance way.
He frowns at us, “You’re leaving?”
I look at Megan expectantly; I had assumed so. She nods her head to confirm it.
“Yes,” I tell him, like it was my idea the whole time.
Ryan shakes his head, “I’m not trying to tell you what to do—”
“Then don’t,” Megan interrupts him.
I look over at her, a little surprised.
“It’s going to be dark in an hour, and you don’t want to be out on the road when it gets dark.” He continues as if Megan’s interruption didn’t even faze him.
“Why not?” I ask. “We have the car. I can’t think of anything safer than being in metal walls that move.” Ryan shakes his head at me.
“You might think so, but it can be hard to avoid huge groups of them if you can’t see ahead. If your vehicle broke down, you would be stumbling around blind out there. Or if you don’t have enough gas to drive through the entire night…,” he trails off, letting my vivid imagination fill in the rest.
I remember earlier today, we had almost been surrounded when we got stuck on the edge of the highway.
“I think maybe we should listen to him,” I say after a few minutes of awkward silence.
Megan looks reluctant. “How is getting trapped in here any better?” she challenges Ryan.
“It might seem like it isn’t any better, but there are four solid walls and doors that lock. There are no overly large windows, and if we block off the windows in a few of the rooms, then zombies could pass right by and might not even know we’re in here. You guys would conserve your fuel and could get back on the road in the morning once it’s light out again.”
I stare out the window, it is getting dimmer by the minute. I had originally felt so safe in the car, but now I’m not so sure.
“Come on Megan,” I prompt her.
She slowly nods her head in agreement, “Someone has to go get Abby from the car.”
Ryan looks confused.
“Who’s Abby?”
“Our friend, she lost both her parents today and she’s been having a rough time,” I supply the information.
“I can imagine,” Ryan looks grim at the news. “I’ll go get her,” he volunteers.
Since I certainly don’t want to go back outside, I agree. He seems harmless enough.
I poke through the house while he’s gone. It isn’t a huge house. There are two bedrooms upstairs, and the living room has a wood-burning stove. I go in the bathroom and check the taps, cold water comes blasting out. I wash the dust from my hands and pull out my phone again and try to dial my parents. The phone doesn’t even ring, and I feel like throwing the useless thing across the room. A hot tear falls from my eyes, and I use the cold water to brusquely wash it away. I stare at myself in the mirror for a long time and, incredibly, my stomach growls. I have no idea how I’ll manage to force down a single bite, but it’s a reminder that I haven’t eat all day. I carefully smooth down my hair and wipe my forehead with a cool cloth before I go back in to the other room. I find Ryan and Megan starting a fire in the wood stove. Abby is lying on the couch with her back to the room. I count it as a small victory that she even got out of the car.
Ryan has taped black garbage bags over the windows to keep the light in, protecting us from unwanted attention. It’s smart, and I make a mental note to remember to do that at the next place. I walk over to Abby and rub her back, but she jerks away like my touch burns her.
“Abby, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, planting a kiss on the back of her head before walking away.
“Why don’t you girls go and see what’s left in the pantry for supper?” Ryan suggests.
I practically jump at the chance to get away from Abby’s depression. Guilt is eating me alive—maybe if they hadn’t been coming to get me, they would still be alive. I firmly clamp down on that thought and turn to the cupboards. They are still pretty stocked, and the stuff in the freezer isn’t completely thawed out yet. I grab a couple of big steaks. Megan finds instant mashed potatoes and a few cans of green beans.
“Looks good,” I acknowledge.
The stove runs on natural gas, so I try my luck lighting one of the burners. It sparks to life with a woof. Ryan has already covered the windows in here, too, so it feels relatively safe. I keep staring at the black bags hung across the windows, criss-crossed with silver duct tape—half expecting something undead to come crashing through the glass. A hot drop of grease leaps out of the pan and burns my hand. I snatch it away, trying to focus on the dinner instead.
“This is the first time I’ve cooked by candlelight,” I mutter.
Megan smirks, “Not me.” I turn and look at her, but her face is mostly covered in dark shadows. The things I’ve learned about her today are pretty insane.
Abby refuses to eat or even talk to any of us, she just shakes her head. I stare at her shaking figure on the couch, and a terrible fear begins to creep over me. It’s a fear that she no longer has the will to live, or even try to survive. We eat in the living room around the wood stove, the heat from the stove is nice. As soon as I walk into the kitchen to put the plates away, I can feel the nip in the air of the unheated section of house.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Megan volunteers, surprising me again at how smart she is for just being a kid like me.
Foolishly, I hadn’t even thought of it, and I probably wouldn’t have either.
Ryan agrees and lays down on one of the mattresses that Megan and I helped him drag into
the room. He thought it would be safer if we were all together, and around the warm fire seemed like the logical place to be. It isn’t that late, but without TV, internet or even electricity, there isn’t much to do except turn in early.
I look over at where Abby is feigning sleep on the couch and grab a blanket to cover her up before stumbling across to the other mattress and laying down. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep, but the emotional toll of the day and the abundance of adrenaline that’s been pumping through my system non-stop puts me right to sleep.
I wake up, and I’m not sure what time it is. Everything is dark. I can hear furious whispering going on beside me, and I squint through the dark to see Megan and Ryan with their heads bent together.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
I’m instantly shushed by Megan. “They’re outside.”
I don’t have to ask who they are. “How many are there?” I whisper.
They both shake their heads.
“It’s too hard to tell in the dark,” Ryan answers, and it is not reassuring.
“What are we going to do?” I am already having terrible visions of those things bursting through the door and tearing at my flesh.
“We wait till morning, and hope they go away,” Ryan answers back with a grim look on his face.
I stare at him like he’s crazy. I can hear them now, the loud moans echo through the still night air, and my heart beats so fast that it actually hurts inside my chest.
Abby is awake now, too, and is sitting up on the couch, staring at us across the room. In the semi-darkness, she looks a bit like a zombie. She’s heard the entire conversation, but she doesn’t look like she even cares. I am half-tempted to get up and slap her as hard as I can to see if she can even feel anything anymore.
I look away from my best friend on the couch as Megan comes and sits beside me. Her presence isn’t reassuring, but at least she’s another living person who wants to survive the night.
We all freeze when we hear clawing sounds on the outside of the house. I open my mouth and think about screaming, but Ryan is beside me in a flash and clamps his hands over my mouth.
“If you scream, we will die,” he whispers the warning sternly in my ear.
