“Hell, no.”
Stopping in my tracks, I waited for the others to do so, and—surprisingly—they did. The Ice Queen was looking at me with that soulless stare of hers, while Nate gave me a variant of his “what now?” glare.
“That’s a high school,” I offered, as if that explained everything. It should have.
“And your point is?” Nate asked, belligerence dripping from his words. “Don’t worry, no one’s going to bully you for being a nerd.”
Irritation zinged up my spine, but at least that did its own to chase away the lingering fear any trip like this brought with it. Made me even wonder if Nate was doing it on purpose for that very reason.
“High school means children. I’m not going to bash any kid zombie’s head in just for some cafeteria junk food that’s likely contaminated, anyway.”
“Okay. Then we’ll do the bashing,” Nate replied, way too chipper to be serious, but it was Pia who—uttering a rather annoyed sigh—gave me the real reply.
“The school’s perfect because it likely closed down early in the week already when teachers and students alike got sick. There’s maybe a janitor or two left in there, but the building should be empty. We likely can’t eat the normal food but they might still have frozen vegetables and meat in the freezer that’s not completely rotten away now, two weeks without electricity.” Looking at Martinez, she went on. “They also have a nursery—“
“Nurses’ station,” Martinez corrected her, smiling slightly. She gave him that stare before she continued, turning back to me.
“—With medication, bandages, first-aid kits, you name it. And a good chance that it’s not been looted yet because every idiot thinks school means just dusty books and disgusting toilets. Any further questions?”
That shut me up for good and I shook my head. When we set out again, I didn’t linger but followed.
At the end of the parking lot, we split up into two groups—one to go by the front, the other around the back. I was in the latter, likely because it meant doing the circuit that had just more fields around, not the town proper. We encountered nothing except two cars that looked abandoned but weren’t even stocked with the usual fare of get-away detritus. The few dull thuds and scuffling sounds that I could hear in the distance as we made it to the other side made me guess that the front team had met with some resistance, but not a single shot was fired.
We met up, and after a quick round of debating we all entered the school through the front entrance together. Burns had his bolt cutters ready—what good they would have done against locks I couldn’t say—but we found the doors unlocked, one of the glass panes smashed.
The school didn’t look as pristine as it probably should have, but littering and destruction was minimal. Someone had been in here before us—busting open lockers, leaving some books and papers strewn across the floor—yet judging from the spray paint on the wall, it looked more like your average school vandalism than a raiding party out to find food or shelter.
The guys and Pia spread out, leaving Skip, Steve, and me to tag along, staying mostly to the middle of the corridors while the others checked out the rooms behind the doors. It was nice to be out of the sun, but the building hadn’t been aired for quite a while—probably since this whole shebang started—leaving the interior stale and smelling kind of funny. It was not the pungent stench of heavy decay and decomposition, which was a relief in itself.
We soon reached the cafeteria, and after making sure that nothing lurked below the chairs or behind the counters, Nate gave the “go” to take a closer look at what possibly edible food was still around. There was lots of semi-spoiled food around that I suspected wasn’t much worse than it had started out as—but both in the storage room behind the counters and the walk-in freezer we hit gold, just as Pia had predicted. After a week without refrigeration, all the meat was gray and rotting away, but bags of previously frozen peas and carrots—and a whole ton of apples, oranges, and bananas that weren’t overripe yet were still stashed away untouched—but not for long.
Never in my entire life had I imagined that I would stuff my face with soggy peas and think they tasted like the best thing in the world. I didn’t even think about getting a container but munched them straight from the package, never mind the grime and dirt on my fingers, either. And it wasn’t like I was the only one to pig out there. None of us stopped to consider trying to season the food, or look if at least a heating plate or two were functional. It didn’t really matter—as long as it was edible, it was good.
I was halfway through a bushel of bananas when Nate plunked down on the floor across from me, the lower half of his face sticky with orange juice from the fruits he was gnawing on. Even with the perpetual exhaustion of the past days weighing down my body, it was impossible not to grin at him. He smiled back when I let out a rather undignified burp.
“You know, it’s always the simple things in life—“ he started, cutting off when I pelted him with the remaining two fruits in my hands. I got two oranges in return, although he rolled them across the floor rather than threw them at me. He didn’t wince outright but the tightness in his face didn’t pass by me unnoticed.
“How are you feeling?” I asked after looking around, making sure that no one was listening in too obviously. We were outside the storage room, him with his back against the serving counter, mine against the wall behind it. The others were either still busy foraging, or had withdrawn to other parts of the cafeteria, without a doubt relishing the moment to let down their guard and not be forced into close contact with the rest of our merry little group.
“I’m alive,” Nate replied dryly, briefly looking away from me to focus on peeling the banana. It was spotted and the lower half had already turned brown and mushy, but that didn’t deter him at all. “That counts for something, right?”
It was everything, I’d come to realize. It still baffled me how completely the world had changed in the short space of just one week.
“I guess.” I left it at a vague reply, not sure what else to say. That seemed to amuse him greatly, but he toned down his mirth for a slight, soft smile.
“I didn’t get to thank you yet. So, thank you. I doubt I’d be sitting here right now otherwise.”
Considering what that had taken, his words shouldn’t have made me feel a little awkward.
“You save my life, I save yours. Unless you want to keep score, I’d say we leave it at that,” I proposed.
Normally, he would have shrugged, but I’d realized that he’d skipped such casual motions when no one else was around to notice. That wound—even if it was healing well now, I supposed—must still be hurting like a bitch.
“Fine with me. Doesn’t really do wonders for my ego to have to acknowledge every time that I’m only still around and kicking because of a girl.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but didn’t let the comment get to me. I was pretty sure that he was just teasing me because, well—it was so much easier to get lost in the doom and gloom otherwise.
“You can cut the shit when it’s just you and me. Your second in command is a woman. A woman who could break you even if you weren’t half-dead and take over if she just wanted to. I know that you’re many things, but misogynist asshole is not one of them.”
“Just the asshole part then, eh?” he guessed, polishing off the second banana.
I struck a pensive pose while continuing to pick apart my orange. “It’s always refreshing to be around people who know their worth.”
His smile widened, but he left it at that. Looking around, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the first time since we’d left Gerry and Maude’s house that I felt vaguely not on the run. Plus, there were toilets around here. Even if they weren’t working, the infrastructure was still there—and, most importantly—toilet paper. I told myself to remember to grab a few extra rolls and cram them into my pack.
Pia stepped out of the storage room and halted next to Nate—not quite ignoring me, but I’d learned in the p
ast days that my physical presence usually didn’t mean that she’d include me in their conversations.
“Everyone is fed, and there’s some more that we can take with us,” she reported. “We also found several cans of granola, beans, and dehydrated diced onions. And some rice,” she added dryly.
“Pack it all up,” Nate agreed, receiving a small nod of acknowledgment.
The very idea that we were already breaking camp made my heart sink—and my stomach didn’t really feel too good, either.
“Can’t we stay a little longer? Maybe until tomorrow?” I proposed. Twin sets of stares bored into me, just as I’d expected, but I didn’t even make an effort to pretend like I wasn’t about to roll over and fall asleep. “There are no zombies out there right now and, correct me if I’m wrong, the building’s not that hard to defend if they come our way. It’s dry, we have room to sleep, and there are likely some mats in the gym that we can use for something resembling real beds. What’s the rush? I doubt that things will get any worse just because we don’t slug on for another four hours or so today.”
Nate’s neutral look was an answer in itself, but I was surprised when the Ice Queen agreed with me after a moment of reflection. “Martinez already said he wants to sweep all the class rooms and teachers lounge for first aid kits, and there are other things we could use. Batteries, for instance. We have enough to keep all scopes operating for the time being, but it would be stupid not to stock up if we can now.”
“Well, there you have your answer,” Nate told me, sagging back more comfortably against the counter. “Tell the men to split up into search teams, and brief them on what’s useable. Check-in every two hours.”
Another nod, but Pia still lingered instead of leaving to order everyone into motion.
“We could dispatch a team into town,” she said. “Look around for weapons and ammo.” I noticed that she left out “survivors,” but then she still glared at Skip or Steve whenever they had the bad luck of crossing her path. Me, she tolerated.
“Do that.”
Five seconds later, we were alone, and I licked my fingers clean of juice to the chorus of the less than happy men who were sent out on their respective looting missions. I waited another minute—I might not be of much use, but Martinez might want to take me along while scavenging for medical supplies, if only to help carry them—but we were left alone. I probably should have felt guilty about that, but I really didn’t.
Nate made no move to get up, looking content just to remain where he was. Sitting around idly had never felt so good before.
“Can I ask you a question?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up as his eyes returned to me. “I think you just did.”
“Another one, then,” I offered. “Where exactly are we going? Except ‘away,’ I mean. You and Andrej are poring over the maps too much to account for just trying to stay clear of larger settlements.”
Nate looked at me long enough that I started to feel vaguely uncomfortable, but he still replied.
“Wyoming.”
“Why—“ I started, not sure if that was more an echo or a real question. He didn’t volunteer more information, so I had to ask. “What’s in Wyoming? I mean, I have no idea how far we’ve come so far—“
“About a hundred and fifty miles, give or take,” Nate supplied. That number was mind-boggling, but then we’d been on the move for hours each day, usually far into the night if the terrain allowed it. And the first two days we hadn’t even really stopped. The realization that the distance was just a four-hour car drive—likely even less using the highways—was crushing for a second. I also felt a little proud of myself. I’d never thought I’d ever walk even fifty miles, let alone three times as much. But then what that actually meant sank in.
“Wyoming’s, what, five states away from here?”
Nate considered for a moment. “About. Depending on whether we play it safe and stick to backroads only, which means a lot of detours, or we cut it closer to the cities to try for a straighter route, it’s still about two thousand miles away.”
I didn’t need to make that calculation in my head to realize just how much fucking farther that was. And it had only been a day or two since the worst of the pain from my blisters had subsided.
“Just kill me now,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. Nate let out a wry chuckle, but thankfully didn’t oblige me.
“It’ll get easier the longer we’re underway. And, if possible, sooner or later we’ll switch to a different mode of transportation.”
“You mean like the idiots on the quads?” I asked.
He shrugged, if only slightly. “I’d prefer some kind of armored vehicle, but those are a little hard to come by. Depending how bad things get the further west we make it, we might try to swing by an army base or two. The only reason why we still have plenty of ammo and weapons is because we haven’t really had to use them. And before you balk, if I can avoid conflict with anyone, I will stick to sneaking the entire way across the country.”
“But you think we’re not going to be able to do that?”
Nate gave me the hint of a nod after a moment of deliberation. I didn’t ask, and not just because he seemed reluctant to answer.
“So what’s in Wyoming, besides grass and mountains and pretty much nothing else?”
“Exactly that,” he agreed with me. “People there are used to being self-sufficient, so we’ll likely have a better chance of finding anything useful if we have to resort to looting only. And we have a bunker there.”
With anyone else, statements like that would have made me do a double-take, but it was Nate we were talking about here.
“Of course you do,” I replied instead. He flashed me another grin, underlining that he’d really been serious. “You mean like an actual, honest-to-God bunker? With some weird-as-shit prepper stuff bunkered inside?”
“You just wolfed down a bag of frozen peas without batting an eyelash. How crazy do dehydrated, complete meals sound to you where you just need to add water, and you get the whole steaming, delicious deal?”
“I think I’m not even kidding or elaborating when I say that I’d kill for that,” I replied, not really liking the fatalistic tone of my voice.
“Another month or so and you’ll actually mean it,” Nate agreed—of course without a hint of humor in his voice. Then again, let’s face it—he was likely the guy who’d teach me how to do it, too.
“But you could have set that up anywhere in the country,” I supposed. “I get why you wouldn’t do it five miles outside of D.C., but there’s still several states that are just corn fields and cows between here and Wyoming.” Pausing, something else occurred to me that I must have picked up while watching late-night TV. “And why set up a bunker so close to Yellowstone? Weren’t you afraid about the super volcano, or something?”
Now I got that look that told me clearly that he was disappointed that I even had to ask about that.
“I was never afraid that the monster tsunami would wash me into the ocean, either.”
“There’s still the entire range of the Rockies between the ocean and your little hideout,” I said.
“But you have a point,” Nate conceded. “A lot of preppers don’t like the region because there are military installations close that might become targets. And Mount St. Helens.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but continue to find the very idea ridiculous—until suddenly, it wasn’t anymore.
“Did you actually plan for—“
He interrupted me before I could get any further, the look on his face a twisted mix of resignation and annoyance.
“Of course we didn’t. It was set up as a shelter for a few people for a couple of weeks. Somewhere to stash our families and loved ones should a hot war on American soil break out. Much more likely, a quirky summer vacation spot to get away from the insanity of the rest of the country, and where the local Sheriff would likely accept a six-pack of beer for bribes or join in the fun if he found
us doing some recreational tactical training.” Whatever that might be. “Honestly, I never actually thought I’d ever be on the run from anyone or anything that I’d need to get there. But considering what is going on right now, it’s our best bet for making it through the winter.”
His reply eased the paranoid fear inside of me a little, but I couldn’t help but feel like it still took a very special kind of people to set something like that up. And tagging along with that kind of people was the only reason why I was still alive.
“So even if we find something on the way there, we won’t stop?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“Someone else’s bug-out bunker?” I suggested.
Nate looked amused by the idea, but not in a belligerent way.
“First off, the chances are extremely slim that we would stumble over something that was already set up. More likely would be something that we could convert into a shelter.” He paused, thinking that through for a moment. “I’m not saying I want to stay in that bunker forever. Actually, the thought of being there for the entire winter already gives me the creeps. Maybe next year we’ll set out to find something else. Something that can accommodate more than ten people easily, or up to thirty if we have to make it work. Then again, do we want to stay anywhere with a larger group? There are more questions to consider than obvious practicality and short-term survival.”
I had to admit, until now I hadn’t spent a single moment thinking about that. Just getting somewhere safe had already sounded like a Herculean task.
“You think we’ll make it there?” I asked—a much easier question.
Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak Page 12
