by Justin Clay
“You want to see your sister right?” he says.
It takes me a minute to understand. My head is still swirling. It’s a painful mixture of dehydration and fatigue. I can feel Eli’s prickle over me, cautiously.
“Here, you should drink up,” he says to me, rummages, and offers me a canteen. I stare at him intently, unsure.
“It’s not poisoned,” he encourages me. “Take it.”
At this point my mouth and throat are so dry; I don’t even care. I just take the damn thing. I hold the canteen up and feel its cold metal lip as I tip the water into mouth, savoring the warm water as it washes through my teeth and coats my throat, relieving the soreness. It’s so delicious…I can’t stop myself.
“Easy there,” he says to me lifting a hand. Coughing, I return the canteen to him.
“Thank you,” I tell him; I don’t even question him about where he got the water. All I care about now is my sister. “Can you take me to her now?”
Eli nods.
He makes a motion with his head, and I follow him further into the inky depths of the sinister warehouse.
I find June lying on a collection of thick blankets over an air mattress and, just like Eli said, sleeping. She has a jean jacket spread over her as a makeshift cover. A woman, who I take for Lena, stands at the window nearby, staring out of it contemplatively. She’s tall and slim, has a fit tone about her, her dark hair kept in a short bob. Lena wears a white tank and black jeans with calf-high army boots, which are also black. Propped up on the wall beside her is my bow and quiver of arrows, and the rest of the weapons, both theirs and ours. I notice they have a crossbow and few handguns along with Eli’s shotgun.
She turns to look at me and Eli entering into the nook, and from what I can see in the dimness, Lena has a lovely thirty-something face. Reminds me of what I used to see on television, super models and such, and I try to not let it get to me. Who cares about looks anyway, when they’re decomposing corpses walking about nowadays. Lena’s eyes are glinting in the outside starlight and I know she is worried about something.
When she looks at me, however, she smiles warmly. “Good to see you up,” she says to me, her voice a testament of these harsh times. It is firm but not unkind. “I’m Lena Faraway…I’m sure Eli has said something of me.”
“Yeah, he said you were with my sister, June,” I say, looking back at the frail girl, her long, wavy hair basking in moonlight.
“June,” Lena repeats quietly, and looks to me again. “Nice name…And…”
“I’m Rian,” I say, filling in the silence.
Lena grins again. Maybe they actually are decent people. I’m not sure how many of those are actually left.
“Nice to meet you, Rian,” she says, extending a hand, and once more, I take the kind gesture. It would be too awkward not to at this point. They did save us, so it’s the least I can do, I guess. After a moment, our hands drop, and we sort of all look down on my sleeping sister.
“She’s been asleep for quite some time,” Lena goes on, and I’m not sure who she’s really talking to. Maybe both of us. Eli and me.
“It’s been some time before we’ve had a good enough rest,” I explain.
“I can understand that,” Lena replies.
“We’ll have to leave soon, though,” Eli says, and I face him.
“Where are you going? Are you trying to get to where the Carriers are too?”
Eli and Lena share a quick glance at each other. Lena frowns, and Eli looks down at me. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, that’s where we’re going, been trying to get to, anyway,” I explain hurriedly, for some reason. “We’ve been out here for nearly two years…Just my sister and I…Not in this town, really, just out crossing the country…We lost our parents in an Infected attack at our safecamp back in Georgia.”
“Georgia,” Lena echoes, a bit shocked. Her eyes are widened greatly. “That’s quite the distance…And you say, it’s just been you two all this time? And you’ve managed to make it all the way out here in Colorado?”
Is it really that difficult to believe? I suppose so, given the dismal facts. And seeing it through some other person’s eyes. Two girls, both children, braving this bizarre and dangerous world, alone. Still somehow alive. I guess I never really thought about that aspect of it too much. Only been taking it day by day, not really wanting to dwell on the past or the future.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy,” I tell her. “We’ve had help along the way…Met a lot of people and lost a lot of people…And now we’re here with you two.”
Lena swallows, her eyes cast away, staring out the window into the night again. The darkness seems to be lifting, becoming lighter, but it’s hard to tell. “We’ve shared our losses too,” she admits softly.
“I think we all have,” I say.
“You two should come with us,” she says, nodding. “You’ll have a better chance of making it there.”
“Lena,” Eli protests, “we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about Elijah,” she says resolutely. “It was no coincidence we came across these girls when we did…Look at them…They’re just children; they need us…And we might just need them, too.”
It is clear; Lena had won. Eli couldn’t argue with her, and I feel like he isn’t even going to attempt it. She seems like the one wearing the pants in the relationship, so to speak.
Eli releases a weighty exhale and narrows his eyes. “Fine,” he says, making a frown. “Grab your stuff, we need to go…Dawn is coming, and soon.”
3
THE OUTSKIRTS
THE OLD, ABANDONED WAREHOUSE Eli and Lena decided upon was located near a hardware store off of Canyon Boulevard, a long brick building with a green awning over its rusty doors. We had followed that highway by foot a good while until we got to Broadway Street and from there crossed through the nearby university’s campus district and passed too many dilapidated, broken-into homes.
We stopped to rest and eat something around noon; the sun was high overhead and Eli and Lena were kind enough to share what little packaged food they had gathered from a supermarket in town. Lena told me about how she and Eli had to kill at least twenty Frothers before leaving the area. “Funny how there seems to not be many here,” I had said to her while drinking a bottle of water. “But I guess they don’t really show themselves until they hear something.”
“Yeah, from what I have seen,” Lena told me, “is that the Infected prefer darker areas that aren’t in direct sunlight, like out here on the streets, though they will venture out nonetheless when they’re hungry enough.”
Makes sense, I thought.
I noticed that Lena did most of the talking — actually all of it — now that I think about it. Eli didn’t talk much, but his eyes were always attentive, taking in the details around us and what lies ahead while holding his shotgun readily at his side.
Lena said we were heading for the mountains. They would provide better protection than out here in the open city; the Infected would be hard-pressed to scale the rocky heights and harrowing trails.
Before we could begin the trek through the Rockies, Lena said they needed to restock on ammunition and consequently scavenge. Upon entering Boulder a few days ago, she said they had spotted an armory along the city’s outskirts. After a few minutes’ walk around a worn-down gas station, I saw the building they had been talking about. The armory was a long one-story building made of a gray tin façade and black, shingled roofing.
Eli told us to wait with Lena, out of sight, beneath a nearby overhanging, while he went to go see if it was clear. Lena didn’t object; she didn’t seem concerned the slightest. Maybe, they were experts at this sort of stuff by now. Seemed like it to me. Both of them looked and acted as tough as nails. Able to survive whatever this hard, cruel life threw their way. Maybe, like us, they were forced to, because death just isn’t an option.
It has been for some…“The easy way out” of this madness. But th
ere is no “easy way out.” Not like that. That’s too selfish, and with June on my conscience, it’s more than I could ever think to afford.
I think about all of this as we watch Eli treading off into the distance, until he disappears around a corner. A few minutes pass in silence. I’m looking at Lena, she isn’t looking at me, and June has preoccupied herself with picking lemon yellow dandelions in an outcropping of grass beside the brick building we’re next to. I wonder if Eli’s okay…Should he be gone this long? Lena still doesn’t seem worried.
“Alright, he just motioned for us,” Lena says firmly, propping her black crossbow up against her shoulder. I turn to see Eli is waving a hand a few yards away, next to a darkened pedestrian light. “Let’s go.”
I keep my bow out, held securely at my side, an arrow loosely nocked, as we cross the road to get to Eli. He’s waiting for us in front of the armory’s sign that says: Cane’s Guns & Armory in bold red letters. Spray-painted on the side of the wall beside the glass set of double-doors is a foreboding warning: NO LOOTING! WILL BE SHOT!
My brow furrows and I look to Eli, confused. “You think people still live around here?”
He shakes his head meaning no. “I don’t think so, but be careful anyway…The place might have booby-traps.”
Eli opens the door with a rusty creak — until suddenly there is an abrasive crash of what sounds like shattering glass right before us.
I’m shielded by Eli’s arm immediately as he is turning the other way; June screams, and Lena is able calm her down enough. My heart feels like it will at any moment rip through my chest and fly through the building at a breakneck speed. As I upright myself, I catch my breath as best as I can.
Eli looks back at us, frowning. “Is everyone all right?”
I nod. “Yeah, other than the minor heart attack, I’m fine.”
“What was that, Eli?” Lena asks from behind me.
“Some sort of sound trap,” he says gruffly, moving forward tentatively. “Opening the door must have set it off…Watch where you step.”
When we enter the armory, the jagged jumbled pile of glass from a mesh sack of broken bottles lies at the threshold unavoidable. The bottles, though, look pretty old and caked with dust, which could be a good sign. Or not.
June, her face flushed, is behind Lena, who steps in, holding out her crossbow and ready to fire. Lena looks to Eli and then at the sack of shattered beer bottles. “Do you think that trap’s been around a while?”
Eli sighs, his frown deepening. “I sure hope so…The maker of that would have already showed himself by now, if he was still around…I’d be more worried about Frothers hearing that instead.”
Lena shares a similar grim expression, a look that doesn’t question him. Only furthers the upsetting reality. Her eyes narrow. “Well, let’s make this quick as possible, then…I’ll get ammunition of the weapons we already have…See if you can scrounge up some new ones, maybe some smoke bombs if we’re lucky.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eli says, his voice deep. For the first time, I can hear traces of a Southern accent.
“June, come with me,” Lena goes on, “Rian, stick with Eli…This shouldn’t take long.”
...
What didn’t take long was for the Infected to hear us. We had only spent maybe fifteen minutes in the armory, before their distinct drone began. We eventually found Cane, or rather what was left of him. Cane sat with his shotgun still held across his chest, slumped over in his dirtied overalls, his body nearly decomposed and a red cap askew on his head. After looking upon him for a few minutes saddened, was when we heard the Infected. They were distant but there all the same. Eli led us out of the armory, Lena bringing up the rear. We moved quietly across the street, staying in the shadows of the buildings’ overhanging as much as we could.
And that’s where we are now. Eli stops abruptly, crouching, and points silently. I look to where he has his hand directed and see them. There are about ten Infected loping around ahead; they haven’t noticed us yet. They are too preoccupied with what had made the loud crash before.
To our left, the buildings extend until meeting a sharp corner where we couldn’t see what lies beyond. There is a traffic light hanging over a pedestrian walkway, and further are a few more buildings, and beyond that is the end of the city’s limits, where nature began to take over with vivid greenery and sweeping foothills leading to the Rockies. Eli makes a motion for us to get closer, so that’s what we do.
“We want to avoid a shoot-out as much as possible,” he whispers determinedly. “That will only draw more attention…Attention we don’t need any more of…So what we’re going to do is move fast, and move quiet — they’re distracted for now, but it won’t last…We have to get across that roadway there, in order to get to a trail out of the city…Now, we’re going to cross this walkway…Don’t make any sudden movements, until I say…We tread lightly and quietly…Follow me, and if anything should happen, you do what I say, when I say it…No questions…No thinking about it. Just do it. Got it?”
This was meant for June and I, so we nod. June is afraid; I can see it clearly. I am too…but I’m not going to let it show. Not in times like now.
As soon as we leave our cover, I know something is wrong. The sounds are unavoidable, and there are so many. So many moans. Gurgling groans. Too close. Way too close.
Eli stops for a moment, looks to his left, and his silence wrenches my stomach; I swallow, and he looks back to us fiercely.
“Run,” he says.
So that’s what we do.
I don’t want to look; I know I shouldn’t. But when have I done what I am supposed to do? Why start now, right?
The wide street before us, the one that we cross in a dire dash is filled with an encroaching column of Infected; they’re everywhere, standing around as if daydreaming, completely absentminded. None of them are moving, yet, not until we get halfway. Not until the point of no return.
Where they all suddenly came from, I haven’t the slightest clue. I don’t want to know. I just want to get out, with my body fully intact çalive.
It’s when we’re halfway through a few of them turn and eye us viciously. The look is the same for all of them: women in bedraggled dresses, men in tattered blue jeans and shirts, some even business suits as if they were going to their office job, now stained yellow with time and dark red with blood. There are children too. Oh, God…Not children. That’s even worse.
“Come on hurry!” Lena urges.
We’re in full lunging mode now, until I hear a panicked yell behind me. It was a far too familiar yell.
My heart drops severely. I can’t breathe; June has stumbled — I’m looking back and I’m horrified. It’s as if everything is in slow motion, and I can barely move. I stare at her dumbly, my heart palpitating, and I hear Lena shout my name. She has her crossbow raised and she’s firing. I look to my right and she’s already struck one of the nearest crazed Infected straight through the head, fallen over, pooling in his own blood.
I snap myself out of the daze and grunt, grabbing up June, who’s weeping just as a girl Frother shrieks, stretching out a hand to grab her. I pull out my pistol and shoot the Infected girl in the head. The bullet tears through, gushing out blood, and I feel sick when I see her head loll, those loose pigtails brush against the ground, her body colliding into the asphalt with a weight that seems to shake through my bones into the darkest part of me. I’m truly scared.
“COME ON JUNE!” I bellow. We flee together; she’s sniveling, her face blood red, and I can’t carry her fast enough. I’m failing. Oh God, I’m failing…Please…No.
I’m shooting my pistol behind me, almost blindly; Lena and Eli are firing constantly too, but the Infected keep coming. Now all of the ruckus has drawn more and more out of their decrepit stupor, and they are volatile, violently lunging for us. I’m staggering; I can’t do this alone. Tears burn from the corners of my eyes and I call out to Eli desperately.
He’s rushing at my side, a
nd doesn’t help me carry her — he just grasps June up like she’s a weightless doll, and cradles her in his arms. And we’re running again. But where I do not know. Just to somewhere safe. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere, where we can lose the chaotic herd of hungry Frothers.
That somewhere ends up being a cellar connected to an old white three-story house on a near ten-foot hill. Eli had slammed the wooden doors shut once we flew in and secured them with the wooden brace.
We all wait in an intense silence as the jarring commotion of the pursuing Frothers pass by. For a moment, I think they wouldn’t keep going, that they’d somehow realize our ruse and burst through the cellar… and then I think better. Most brain capacity for logical thinking is apparently lost when you become like them, from what I have seen. They wouldn’t be able to figure it out. So we are forced to just wait it out.
