Still, if this was indeed Revelations, Mandy had no problem with it so far, except for the lack of curly fries. “Dunno. Maybe the Rapture missed ’em like it missed us.”
“Rapture says the godly vanish.” Carline moved her hips, turned this way and that. It took her a while to settle, just like a dog.
“Can’t think of anyone in town good enough to sit with Jesus, Car.” Mandy preferred to wait until Carline was done before stretching out herself, so she didn’t get a stray elbow in the ribs. “Not even on the doorstep.”
“Yeah, well.” Carline finally stretched and yawned, pink mouth and little white teeth like a kitten. “Come on, lay down. I’m cold.”
“Shoulda put yo’ shoes on.” Mandy set their bats—rinsed in the meat department’s giant sinks, their wooden grain darkened now—down in their accustomed places. Gonna be up early, Mr Quartine had said. You’re welcome to come along. He was in for a surprise if he expected to be able to move with it snowing like it was. Still, he might have a trick or two up his sleeve, and he treated that Mr Thurgood and Mandy herself just like the rest of them. That was a good sign.
Any adult with a low bullshit factor was a treasure, in Mandy’s humble opinion, and that cracker looked about as low-bullshit as they came despite his gym-teacher hair and military bark-and-bite. She kept expecting him to tell someone to take a couple laps ’round the gym or drop and give him ten, like nasty bullet-headed Mr Connors who always wore grey sweats.
That asshole was probably dead, and the thought pleased Mandy immensely.
She unlaced her sneakers a little more, slid them off, and wriggled into her own plaid sleeping bag from the camping department of this very same store. Spent a few moments arranging herself suitably. Carline nestled close, and Mandy shut her eyes, breathing deeply. Beads dug into the back of her head until she moved with a quick habitual shake, and Carline waited for a few moments before pressing her lips to Mandy’s cheek.
“They’ll be up soon,” Carline whispered, a hot breath against her ear. “You think we have time…?”
“Girl, you’re insane.” But Mandy couldn’t help but grin, her eyes closed tight. “We should zip our bags together if we go with ’em. Then we could whenever we wanted.”
“Just have to be quiet.” Carline sounded like she liked the idea.
Heat bloomed in Mandy’s belly, spread up to touch her heart. “Like at home.”
“You ever glad this happened?”
No point in lying. “Kind of.”
“Me too.” Carline’s tongue flicked along the curve of Mandy’s earlobe. “You think we’re goin to hell?”
A zing went down Mandy’s spine. “Course not.” Didn’t the girl know? We’re already there. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”
“I like the way you say that.” Carline kissed her braids. “Honeypot.”
“Sugar britches.”
That cracked them up good, and by the time Steph came up the stairs with her flashlight bobbing, the teacher lady right behind her, they were both fast asleep, unconcerned, Carline breathing into Mandy’s nape.
No Use in Shouldas
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Ginny repeated, pulling her jacket lapels closer and searching for the zipper. “It’s all the same.”
“It ain’t.” Lee rubbed at his forehead as if he was developing a headache to match hers. He was in a thicker coat today, too, and even Juju had swapped out his fatigue jacket for something more substantial. “Help me out here, Ginny.”
I wish I could. “I don’t want to drive another RV. But that’s not what I’m saying, Lee.” At least a foot and a half of snow lapped at the walls, drifting over the roads. The melt might as well not have happened. At the same time, staying in this place another night, with all the dead bodies stacked in the door, possibly frozen together—dear God, but no.
Worst of all was the fact that sometime during Juju’s watch near dawn, most of the flesh from the back ends of the dead zombies had been stripped away. There were even gnaw marks on the discolored, queerly spongy bones.
It reminded her of cadaver classes in med school. Some profs let you cover the faces, but most didn’t. You had to get used to it. The thought that all that muscle mass—glutes, hamstrings, quadriceps, gastrocnemius and soleus, lo and behold she remembered her A & P—was probably very attractive to wandering cannibal zombies wasn’t helping her retain her cool, as Steph might say.
Speaking of Steph, the girl had given Mark the cold shoulder all morning, and watching him follow her around like a spike-haired puppy was slightly funny and disconcerting at the same time. From his expression, the kid had no idea what was wrong. Neither did Ginny, but she suspected he wasn’t going to win any points by trying to horn in on a developing female troika. Carline and Mandy were a tight unit, but they graciously folded their collective social wings over Steph while observing just enough distance to make it clear she was on probation.
High school really never ended, even now.
Lee kept going, obviously in problem-solving mode. Just like a man, not listening. “We can make it to the freeway. We’ll get to Louisville, bound to be supplies and a place to hole up there if it gets worse—”
“Lee. Really.” She folded her arms. “How much worse can it get?”
“Ginny…” He stopped, probably having run out of solutions. He’d come up with a few more if she let him get started again.
Maybe she could get through to him during the pause. “It’ll take days to get to my parents at this rate,” she continued. “Normally, it takes about eighteen hours nonstop, if you’ve got enough caffeine and know the roads. I should have left before the snow, I should have left when Mom called me, I should have—”
“Ain’t no use in shouldas, Ginny.” He was going to get started on solutions again, she could just tell. “What we got in front of us is more than enough.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Her temples ached, and she fought the urge to massage them. “Look, all I’m saying is, if there’s even a chance there’s some kind of government presence in Atlanta, you should take the kids there.”
“I ain’t leavin you.” He said it very quietly, but he leaned forward a bit, shoulders swelling and his dark eyebrows drawing together. “I thought that was clear enough for even your stubborn Yankee head.”
It didn’t help her temper that he said Yankee like it was a dirty word. Ginny zipped her coat up and tried again, searching for a tone much calmer than she felt. “There are bigger issues here, Lee. Look at them, They’re kids. And the only reason Juju’s along is because of you. You have a responsibility to them that you don’t have to me.”
“The hell I don’t. What part of this do you not understand? I’m a-goin with you, to see to your folk. They probably ain’t even alive, Ginny, unless they’re fast and lucky.”
For a moment, she couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. From the look on his lean, freshly shaven face, he couldn’t either.
Ginny was abruptly conscious that the kids were staring. Juju wasn’t only because he’d taken Traveller out after breakfast. The tea she’d managed to sip this morning sloshed uneasily in her gurgling stomach. “They may not be,” she agreed, quietly. “I’ve thought of that.” Except it was different, hearing someone say it out loud. “And I have to make sure. I’m asking you to help me find a vehicle that can get me there, that’s all.” Then she’d be out of his hair, and on her own.
“Why are you alla sudden like this?” At least he quit looming over her, his shoulders slumping instead of tense under the navy Thinsulate coat. It was a relief.
Maybe because last night showed me something. “Because it has to be said, Lee. I can’t risk the kids’ lives, and yours, and Juju’s. I have to get to my parents, and Flo, even if…” Her throat refused to work for a moment. “Even if something’s happened to them. I am not asking anyone else to come along. In fact, I’d actively discourage it, because—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lee
’s eyes had done their funny thing again, turning yellowish and intense. She’d heard of people whose irises changed colors under stress. There was a medical term for it, surely. Good luck remembering it now.
“I’m talking about my conscience.” And the sound of baseball bats hitting skulls, and washing the splatter in freezing water with not enough soap. They were here because Ginny was fixated on getting home. Well, Carline and Mandy weren’t here because of it, but if Ginny’s group hadn’t shown up, would the zombies have attacked the way they did? Somehow, the creatures could tell where food was, it was the only thing that made sense. “It wasn’t right of me to allow you to come along—”
“Allow me?” Now he was dangerously quiet, both eyebrows lifting. Ginny could see, now, how someone might find him…imposing.
“Yes, Lee. I do have a say in who I travel with.” God. She’d been mentally practicing this interaction ever since she laid down early this morning to try to sleep again, and it was not going in any direction she’d prepared for. Her eyes were grainy, the tea she could choke down was not helping her sore throat, her headache was back and mounting. “I am an adult. Just because it’s the goddamn Apocalypse doesn’t mean you can order me around, or control where I go or what I do.”
“Likewise.”
What was that supposed to mean? She wasn’t telling him what to do, really. “You have a responsibility, Lee.”
“Who nominated me, huh?” His hands moved a little, like he wanted to fold his arms, but he put them back down. “You? You won’t last a day out there, Ginny.”
“Thank you for your confidence.” She tried not to sound sarcastic, and failed utterly. It didn’t help that he was probably right, but if she was careful she could avoid the zombies, right? She could sleep in whatever car she…stole, that was the only word for it. And pee in a bottle or something.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this. Ginny took a deep breath, bracing herself to try again.
Help—or at least, a distraction—arrived from an unexpected quarter. “What the hell’s going on?” Juju stopped between them and the kids, hands on his lean hips and the pompom on his blue hat nodding slightly. His cheeks were raw with the cold, and Traveller, silent for once, trotted worriedly behind him, tail sinking as the dog got closer and scented tension. The kids were in a tight knot, Carline’s arm over Mandy’s shoulders, Steph hugging herself, Mark’s big-knuckled hands—he hadn’t grown into them yet, though his shoulders were acquiring a respectable size—working at each other as if he still had zombie blood on them. “You two havin a fight?”
“Not a fight,” Ginny hurried to explain. Her scalp itched; whoever had said the body would clean itself without modern detergents was a liar. God, what she wouldn’t give for a hot shower. “I’m telling him he should go to Atlanta with you and the kids, Juju. He’s being stubborn.”
“And what would you be doin if we go Atlanta way, Ginny?” Juju shook his head. “He ain’t the stubborn one here. It ain’t certain there’s anything in Georgia worth goin for, and I’d like as not go North. South ain’t never been good for me.”
Well, that was one way to put it. Ginny paused, absorbing this. “If there’s even a chance that the CDC there has a facility—look, we might be immune.” At least Juju would listen to reason, instead of running over the top of her with suggestions and pronouncements and this is what we’re gonna do. “And if so, they’ll need us to help engineer some kind of cure.”
“Oh, hell no,” Juju said. “Heard that shit before, ma’am. Ever hear of Tuskegee? Fuck that noise, and I ain’t apologizin for my language, ma’am. I ain’t goin to no Atlanta, and I’ll thank you not to bring it up.”
“Oh.” Ginny blinked. Her arms loosened, her hands falling to her sides. “I didn’t know you felt that way, Juju. I’m so sorry.” God, now she felt like an ass. She hadn’t even considered that side of it.
“Yeah, well.” He nodded, briskly, and Traveller reached her side, stropping against her left shin, circling worriedly. “Don’t pay it no more mind. Wanna help me pack up beds? Like to get goin soon.”
“Yes, of course.” She glanced nervously at Lee, who said nothing, just glowered at her, at Juju, and the whole world. Now she’d pissed him off. “I guess I’m wrong. I’m sorry.”
Lee shrugged, turned on his heel, and stalked off for the cereal aisle. Maybe he needed some time to cool down.
Great. Ginny rubbed at her temples and hurried after Juju. Traveller, sensing the tension had blown over, began to yip-yowl his usual excited commentary when he knew his pack was Getting Ready to Go.
Enough to Shine Your Shoes
“You mad at me?” Mark hefted the box of canned food onto the tailgate and scratched under the brim of his knit cap, rubbing hard enough to reach brains—if he’d had any.
Steph shook her head, settling the box where it should be. Like playing that old game on the school library’s ancient computers, where you had to fit funny falling shapes into each other until they vanished. Even as short as she was, there was a real danger of forgetting she was under a canopy and giving herself a concussion. “Nah.” Mad wasn’t really the word, so it wasn’t really a lie, was it?
They’d shoveled paths to the truck and the 4x4, and white undulating hoods stretched in every direction. Zombie tracks circled the entire building, but they’d stopped coming around to the side entrance before the snow ceased, so those furrows were mercifully blurred.
She couldn’t decide which was worse—zombie tracks, or the vast swathes of unbroken white. No tire tracks, no footsteps, nothing. Like the whole earth had closed up for the winter.
“Then what is it?” He was persistent, she’d give him that. “You been avoidin me.”
“I can’t avoid you, Mark. There ain’t enough space.” She settled another box, made sure it was fastened, and crouched on the tailgate, leaning back to get her rear down and her legs off the shelf, so to speak. Hopping down was a jolt each time, but when Mark moved to help she pushed off before she was ready, hit hard, and almost went sprawling.
“You could let me help.” He reached for her arm again. “What the fuck, Steph?”
She leaned away and almost snapped watch your mouth, like she was an adult and he wasn’t. But Lord, didn’t she feel like it, sometimes.
The front of the Bargain Zone was all blue and yellow, but the side was just plain concrete and anonymous metal doors. Mr Lee and Miz Ginny were deep in conversation again near Mr Juju’s black four-by-four, Lee leaning in and looming over the library lady, Miz Ginny’s arms folded and her expression plainly shouting she didn’t like it. She was patient, and Mr Lee wasn’t mean. Still, Steph found herself copying the older woman’s body language when Mark stepped close—folded arms, chin up, don’t touch me closing around her like old-timey knight’s armor. “Don’t talk that way to me,” she managed. “It ain’t proper.”
“Oh, proper.” Mark nodded. His dark eyes managed to look both velvety and burning at the same time, like briquettes before they grew a coat of white and Daddy said you could lay the steaks down. “Okay. You got yourself new friends now, and don’t need trailer trash like me around?”
Oh, for God’s sake. Now his pride was involved. “Why would you say somethin like that?” Steph cast a quick look around. Thin, cloud-filtered sunlight bounced off the snow; you needed to wade through it, and driving was likely to be a piece. Still, she didn’t like the idea of staying here either, and if Mr Lee thought they could make it to a better location, she was all for it. “Fine. We might as well talk about it now.”
“I’m all ears.”
She refrained from pointing out he was all nose instead. That was, in her mama’s words, not helpful at all. “Why didn’t you say nothin when that man was mean to Mr Thurgood, huh?”
“What?” Baffled, he stared at her. His red-rimmed nostrils flared a little whenever he was mad, but when he was puzzled his mouth loosened a little and his forehead wrinkled.
Steph set herself to try to expla
in, nice and calm, like how Miz Ginny would. “You just stood there.”
“Is that…what?” He studied her face. The cold pinkened him in some spots, reddened him in others, and curled his shoulders up. He was bulking out a little. Traveling agreed with him.
Or maybe being in a car all day and eating crap was making everyone rounder.
The words she’d been sitting on tumbled out, jostling each other. “Why didn’t you say nothin? Why didn’t you, I don’t know, stand up to him? You can’t just…he was so mean to Mr Thurgood. You heard it, you were right there.”
“Mr Juju can handle himself.” Mark dropped his gloved hands and stepped back a little, cocking his head like the dog when he wasn’t quite sure what he’d heard.
Oh, for God’s sake. It was like talking to a wall. “That ain’t the point.”
“What, I should’ve punched him? Like Carty?”
“No.” Yes. Maybe. “But you didn’t do nothin, Mark.”
“What was I s’posed to do?”
Something. Anything. “Nothin, I guess.” She backed up two steps, and turned on her heel. These boots were killer; Mama would never have bought her a pair this good. The Meachams didn’t go camping enough, and shoes were expensive. You could tell these were quality from the way they cradled her feet and gripped through packed-down snow.
All sorts of stuff was standing on shelves now, waiting for someone to come along and pick it up. There weren’t any shortages, and nobody needed money anymore. Unless there were places the sickness didn’t reach? It was enough to make a body wonder. How long would the supplies last? How many survivors were there? There had to be some math that would tell her, right? Maybe Miss Ginny would know. A percentage, maybe.
Steph had a suspicion that percentage wasn’t likely to be high, or even medium.
Roadtrip Z (Season 3): Pocalypse Road Page 7
