Sunlight streamed into the building from the open door and a small window. A warped chandelier sat in the middle of the floor, none of its short candles lit. A battered beige couch, a large plush footrest, and a wicker chair took up half of the single room. Dalton took the ottoman and Arthur and Charlotte sat on the couch before Lori shut the door.
Disappearing behind a cabinet, the resident shuffled through the cupboard. Stepping slowly to avoid spilling anything, she handed out the servings and settled into the wicker chair.
“So,” she started, leaning back and gripping the armrests, “Blake.”
Charlotte could smell her little jerky slice, but she only fingered it as she nodded and watched Lori’s face.
“I know he survived the initial outbreak,” Lori said, rubbing her knee. “Almost all of us kids did. The counselors and other workers crowded us into shelters and wouldn’t let us out. But we didn’t have much food stored down there, especially for all of us, and it wasn’t a month before the adults started going outside. They aimed to empty out the mess hall and any other food and drink in the area. Most of them didn’t come back. One”—she winced— “got shot on the way back in, but his girlfriend was able to shut the door before anyone else could get hurt.
“Blake usually stuck with me and the boys. He was pretty shaken up for a while, but, then again, we all were. We’d been having a great time, and then—no more sports, no more games, no more fun stuff. Just hiding, and waiting, and watching, and hoping.”
She took a deep breath, in unison with Charlotte, before continuing. “Then we really ran out of supplies, and more of the older kids started helping the counselors in food hunts. Within a week, only campers were left, and not all of us. Blake and the rest of our little group were still around, but it didn’t take much time starving before we were tempted to step outside.
“Only tempted, though. More and more of the others started to break down or panic, and risk going outside. Everyone needed some food and water, or even fresh air. I don’t know how many died and how many outright left, but our number plummeted. Soon the only ones in the shelter were me, Blake, and ten of the campers that I didn’t know so well.”
Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees and stared at the candles. “How we managed not to starve to death I don’t know. Maybe we had just enough stored fat, just enough scraps from those who had come back and shared. But we were barely alive by the time eight of us were left. One of the others our age—Colby—convinced us that things were settling down out there, to the point we could try leaving. No one had disappeared in a while, and we hadn’t gotten any food, so after a while of persuasion, Blake and I went outside with him.
“A few of the zombie-things were still around, but there were nowhere near as many as the day we first hid. I don’t know if they had given up on the area, or if they were just dying out.”
Exhaling, she drummed her fingers on one knee. “Eventually, we found some food—I don’t remember what kind. We went back to check on the others, and, after a few cycles of this, we all started going out together. It worked out well. We got to know each other better, and we had allies while we figured out what we were doing.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Colby was infected while he was getting some kindling together. Carlos tried to clean out the wound, but it was useless. Colby ended up biting him before we knew he was gone.”
Charlotte caught herself trembling along with the storyteller, and Arthur tentatively took her hand. She squeezed back and drew in a quiet breath.
Lori stared down at her lap. “The rest of us ran and did our best to keep surviving. Blake and I almost got bitten a few times, but we all looked after each other. It wasn’t always enough. Some raiders came by and killed Abby when she got separated. We found her while she was still bleeding, all over—” she choked “—all over that silly little side ponytail of hers.
“And Judythe g-got stabbed to death right in front of us before we decided to break up the group.” She had to wait a second for her crying to lessen. “So we wouldn’t have to see any more of us die. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but—but Keaton and I were bleeding pretty badly from the attack, and we were all sick of it. Even if we were close friends by then, it was better to say goodbye than keep watching each other die.
“And that”—she wiped at her eyes—”was the last time I saw your brother. He was okay then—maybe a few scratches, but not enough to make me worry. He left for the lake, I stayed here at the front, and Keaton and Laquisha headed towards town. I haven’t run into any of them since.”
Smoothing her hair back, she took a deep breath and let her hands fall back onto the armrests. “It’s been about a year, I think. It seems like I would have run into Blake by now, with our territories so close, but I haven’t noticed him leaving camp, either.” Still sniffling, she met Charlotte’s gaze. “If he’s still around here, he’s back by the lake. If not, he definitely didn’t leave in this direction.”
Nodding, Charlotte set down her dish and slipped over next to her. Throwing an arm over her shoulders, Charlotte hugged her for a minute.
“Thank you for telling me,” Charlotte murmured, letting go to face her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Lori put on a smile. “I’m sure you’ve had your share of troubles, too.”
Charlotte smiled back.
“Now go eat your jerky.” Lori got to her feet. “Then I’ll let you go. And whatever you find back there—” her voice dropped “—don’t tell me, okay?”
Charlotte stepped back towards the couch. “Okay.”
27
The lake’s surface was blinding in the morning sunlight. A large, red-roofed complex of buildings and a group of silo-shaped cabins had already passed by, empty. Now only overgrown grass stood between Charlotte and the next structures. Like a pentagonal house with the center cut out, the connected pair of cabins stood on a matrix of stilts.
Why wouldn’t Blake have sought shelter here? Trees hid it from passersby, and it was hard for the infecteds to access. He was supposed to be somewhere around the lake, and this was the most logical place to look for him. The previous buildings may have been empty, but that only meant he was more likely to be hiding here.
Taking deep breaths, Charlotte wound her way around the double-cabin until she found a ladder. While its rusted metal matched the lining of the cabin, it was a lot less oxidized than the rough, white walls. Secured to the deck with some plastic ties, it stretched a good five rungs farther up than it needed to.
“One person at a time on this.” She pushed her duffel behind her back. “I don’t know how much it can stand.”
Dalton nodded, and Arthur heeled the ladder as she gripped the sides and started up. Although the bottom rungs were embedded in the soil, the ladder still trembled with every step. It didn’t creak, though, and she was able to climb onto the deck within a minute. After exchanging a glance with Dalton, Arthur started after her.
The ladder held steady when Dalton came up, and the three stepped wordlessly to the rightward cabin’s door. The handle turned, but the panel wouldn’t open more than a few inches, and jostling the door didn’t help.
“It’s definitely blocked.” She entangled a finger in her hair and raised her voice. “Hello! Is anyone in there? We have plenty of food, so we’re not trying to rob you.” She hesitated, swallowed, and added, “It’s Charlotte.”
There was no response.
“Maybe we can pry it open.” She unzipped the largest compartment of her duffel. Shuffling through the other contents, she reached in and grabbed her crowbar.
“If you’d like,” Arthur started, reaching out a hand, “I could…”
“I’ve got it, thanks.” She had positioned the flat end of the metal bar under the bottom set of hinges when something on the other side screeched. It wasn’t human, or that high-pitched, but it was right behind the door. After it had toned down to a dragging noise, the door creaked open a bit more.
She removed
the crowbar, her grip loose as her arms dropped to her sides. Arthur fingered an arrow but stepped back next to Dalton, who slipped into a stable stance.
The scuffing sound ceased, and a hand reached around to swing the door halfway open. Two uneven sets of footsteps shuffled across the floor, and then a young man stood in the entryway. His back was straight despite his gauntness, and well-kept blonde hair went past his shoulders. His clothes were name-brand but rather threadbare. His shirt didn’t reach the waistband of his shorts, but his shoes and socks fit fine.
One hand still resting on the door, he looked up at Charlotte wide-eyed. She stared back for a minute before shrieking and throwing her arms around him. Both of them had stumbled to the floor by the time she was sobbing into his hair. Her brother buried his face in her shoulder as they sprawled there.
Blake was right there. Really there, in her arms. His breath on her ear, his tears soaking into her shirt. He was there, and alive, and happy, and not as gaunt as he could have been. And she was here with him, she had found him, he was going to be okay, everything was going to be okay.
Blake let the back of his head thunk against the floor as he grinned at her. “So I survive the apocalypse for four years only to be smothered to death by my overbearing sister.”
“What?” She sniffed loudly. “Am I hugging too hard?” She laughed, a short squawk under her crying, and sat up, dragging her brother upright with her. She looked at his face again and cried out, squeezing him hard. He coughed a few times but fell back into tears before she could loosen her hold.
After a while more of crying, she managed to compose herself enough to ask, “H-Have you been okay? How have you been doing? L-Lori already told us about what happened then, but—I don’t know, just tell me everything you want to!”
She gave him one more squeeze before pulling back, keeping her hands on his shoulders.
“Lori?” He pushed damp hair out of his eyes. “You saw her?”
She nodded, sniffling. “She’s doing fine. How about you? It sounds like you’ve been all alone for a while.”
“I’m all right.” He choked on tears for a moment before clearing his throat. “I’ve been all right.” He hugged her. “I—I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to see you again.”
Though he tried to pull away, she hugged him back too hard to allow it. “I’m sorry I took so long.” Descending into mumbles, she stroked his hair.
“I’m just glad you’re here.” He sniffled a few times before he got out of her grasp. “I guess you’ve been all right? How’s Timothy? Mom and Dad?”
She wiped at her cheekbones. “Timothy has been doing fine. We stayed together through most of it. I haven’t seen Mom or Dad in years, so I can’t say for sure, a-about them.”
Flicking his gaze down, he nodded. “Okay.”
She took a few deep breaths before squinting at him and swatting his hair. “This is silly. You shouldn’t have longer hair than your sister.”
“Then grow yours out some!” He wiped his nose. “I could use a trim, though.” He glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn’t get a good look at his locks. “I don’t know if I cut it straight the last time, anyway.”
His sister perked up. “Do you have scissors?”
“Yeah, in one of the drawers.” He scooted back, farther into the cabin. “Come on inside, everyone; it’s not as hot in here. If you shut the door.”
She nodded, pushing herself to her feet. “Good. I’m burning up.”
He winced at that and slid back on his rear until his shoulders hit the wooden pillar of a bunk bed.
“Not worth getting up?” She laughed, but her expression faded. “I didn’t hurt you when I knocked you over, did I?”
“No!” He pulled his shins up. “I just messed up my ankle a little bit the other day. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, okay.” She hesitated for a second before she checked behind the door. A circular, dark-stained table and two matching chairs were still butted up against it. Arthur and Dalton were inside before she could move them out of the way.
Stepping farther into the cabin, she exclaimed, “Goodness! If I thought your room at home smelled terrible…”
Head leaning back against the second rung crossing the bunk bed’s front, Blake crossed his arms. “Sorry, I ran out of Febreze.”
She snorted and looked around. Three more bunk beds, stripped of bedding and piled with odds and ends instead, were crammed in the back of the room. Of the three small windows on each wide side, only one had the blinds open enough to admit sunlight. A closer look, and she noticed the pair of drawers beneath each bunk bed.
“Any idea which one has the scissors?” she started, smiling down at Blake.
He shrugged, shutting his eyes and trying to steady his breathing.
She made a sputtering noise, shook her head, and stepped to the bed in the corner. “A little early for a nap, isn’t it?”
He rubbed his elbows. “Well, you woke me up too soon.”
“What?” she exclaimed, turning back towards him in the middle of rummaging. “Since when do you ever sleep in?”
“Since my thirteenth birthday?” He chuckled. “I don’t know.”
“I can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.”
Snorting, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Since my thirteenth birthday!”
“I missed you turning thirteen!” She sucked in a breath. “And fourteen and fifteen, and sixteen.” Shaking her head, she sifted through the utensils and books in the drawer.
“I didn’t exactly make it to all of your birthdays.” He opened his eyes and watched her.
She waved a hand dismissively. “There weren’t any big celebrations, anyway. And you’ll still get to see my twenty-first.” She smiled back at him before trying the next drawer and retrieving a black-handled pair of scissors from it.
“Success!” She shut the drawer and hurried back to her brother, making him turn his back to her. She straightened out his hair and opened up the scissors. Stopping, she hugged him and relapsed into tears. He chuckled, leaning against her and putting his hands over her wrists.
Blake was there. A little sweaty, and a little worn, but there. That was all she had hoped for.
After a minute, she loosened her grip. “Okay!” She sniffled. “Back to hair-cutting.”
~*~
After dragging a mattress in and kicking some sandals out of the way, Charlotte set up her bed next to her little brother’s bunk.
“I guess we’ll head out tomorrow.” Lying down and resting a forearm on her brow, she smiled up at Blake. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take up so much time just jumping around and blabbering.”
“It’s totally fine; I’m in no rush. It would be nice to see Timothy, but—” he drew in a sharp breath “—I can wait a while.” Slowly nodding, he shifted his legs with a wince and looked down at his sister. “And it was worth it, catching up a little with you.”
“Aw, thanks.” She grinned.
He watched her for a minute before hopping onto his good foot, the sneaker sole slipping. He wobbled onto his knees and embraced her.
“Good night, sis.”
She hugged him back, patting him as he started sniffling. “Good night, Blake.”
He held on a little longer, and she shifted her shoulders.
“You feel kind of warm,” she started, pulling one of her hands away to reach for his forehead.
He sputtered and ducked out of the way. “Of course I’m warm. It’s, like, a hundred degrees in here.”
“Can we prop open the door?” She pulled back. “That could get some air flowing if the rain won’t blow in, too.”
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ve made it through nights hotter than this.”
“Then quit complaining.” She flicked him on the nose. With an exaggerated groan of pain, he rubbed the injured area and tried to get back to his feet.
“Here.” She hopped up and gave him a hand. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I understand
if you haven’t had much to eat, but—”
“I’m fine, Charlotte.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry so much.”
“All right, all right.” The mattress shrieked as she plopped back down onto it. “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a lot of walking to do come morning.”
He grinned, teary-eyed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beaming, she rolled back onto the middle of her bed and put her head on the pillow. “Good night, everyone.”
“Good night,” Arthur said, sitting on the edge of his mattress. Dalton echoed and shut his eyes.
28
The rain was audible when Charlotte woke. Stretching, she yawned and sat up. Blake was still slack in his bed, his back turned towards her. Still there.
She could let him sleep in a little more. She needed to go outside to check on the water bucket, anyway. She may have even caught the sunrise. If it was visible beyond the rainclouds, she might have to wake Blake and drag him out to see.
The door swung open before she touched it. Hurrying back, she rubbed her eyes as Arthur, his back against the door, stepped inside.
Upon catching sight of her, he cringed. “I didn’t ram into you, did I?”
“No,” she said, holding the door open as he lugged the water bucket into the building.
“Good.” He backed up past Blake’s bunk before setting the pail down. “Sorry for startling you, anyway.”
“Don’t worry about it. I was only going to check on that bucket.” Arms akimbo, she looked down at the water’s surface. It still sloshed, warping the slotted light from the blinds, and a few dribbles had already made it down the sides.
“I managed to see when it first filled up last night.” He kneaded his palms to get rid of the handle’s impressions. “So I refilled the water bottles. Also checked the other cabin for any containers, but there wasn’t anything good.”
Along the Winding Road Page 22
