The Wilsons' Saga (Book 1): The Journey Home

by Gibb, Lew

  “That has to be the one,” Brent said, pointing at a once-blue house on their side of the street. The front grass was so tall, Rachel couldn’t see the front steps. Where the white-painted trim hadn’t peeled down to the wood, the color had merged into the same dull gray as the siding.

  “I can’t believe it,” Rachel said. She’d been prepared for a multi-day ordeal, but the entire trip had taken less than two hours.

  “Why are they all going the same way at the same time?” Brent said.

  Rachel shifted her eyes away from the house and took in the street scene. A big group of neighborhood zombies was wandering around in an odd imitation of a family block party. There were kids and adults everywhere, too many for a frontal assault—she’d have to thank Bob for all the military jargon she’d picked up listening to him ramble over the years—and they were moving like a flock of starlings in a big clump, turning and changing direction as a mass with no apparent leader.

  “I have no idea,” she whispered. Jerry’s zombie lore didn’t have anything to tell her on the subject, so she moved on. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We hop this fence and come at the house from the back. Got it?”

  Brent and Cindy nodded. Brent still looked excited just to be there. Cindy wasn’t going to last much longer. She was one of those soft-looking women who filled out the right clothes, but you could tell by her lack of muscular definition the most exercise she got was carrying her groceries into the house when no one else was home.

  “Just a little farther, Cindy. Then you can see Andy.” Rachel tried to sound encouraging, something she didn’t have much experience with. When someone needed to get their shit together in the kitchen, the chef just cursed at them until they were performing at an adequate level. In her own business she just fired their worthless asses and got someone who could handle the job.

  She must have faked it well enough because Cindy gave her a little smile. Brent gripped his hatchet with both hands and looked at Rachel for the rest of her instructions. Maybe she and Jerry could adopt him.

  “All right,” Rachel whispered. “Brent, keep an eye on your mom.”

  He nodded, and she wondered if she would ever get used to the sight of a ten year old with a pistol jammed in the waistband of his jeans as she moved toward the side of the corner house.

  Cindy surprised Rachel by climbing the fences unassisted. Brent scaled them like she’d expected, all arms and elbows, and before she knew it he was over them without making any noise. Everything was going better than Rachel had expected until she dropped into the second yard and stopped dead in her tracks. “What the hell?”

  Seven dead bodies in blood-encrusted clothing lay scattered about the yard. The pant legs of two were shredded and rusty with dried blood. Goosebumps erupted along her arms, and her eyes darted around.

  “Woah,” Brent said, after dropping beside her. He was clutching the hatchet like a talisman and staring at the bodies. “Why aren’t they eaten?”

  “Good question.” Most if not all of the bodies she’d seen so far had been at least partially consumed. Some of them were like a science display, their bones were so clean. A dull silver chain snaked into the bushes from the center of the yard.

  “I don’t believe it,” Rachel whispered.

  “What?”

  She whistled softly, conscious of the zombies in the street. Nothing happened. She took a few steps toward the bush. “It’s okay,” she cooed, still keeping her voice low. “We won’t hurt you.”

  “Who…are…you…talking…to?” Cindy had finally joined them.Apparently so out of shape she had to breathe between each word after scaling the fence.

  “Him,” Brent said, smiling and pointing to a golden retriever emerging from beneath the bushes. Even with a thick coating of dried blood on his muzzle, Rachel could see the dog’s characteristic golden grin as it bounded across the yard toward them.

  “Crazy!” Brent said.

  The dog reached the end of his chain just before he got to them. Rachel examined him as well as she could while he wagged his tail in a big circle and reared up on his hind legs, desperate for affection, like every golden Rachel had ever met.

  “Let’s keep our voices down,” Rachel said. “There’s still zombies out there.”

  “Sorry,” Brent whispered, hunching his shoulders and looking around. “Hey, he’s all bloody. Do you think he’s hurt?”

  “Actually,” Rachel said. “I think he’s the one who killed these zombies. See how their throats are torn out?”

  “Can dogs be zombies?” Brent said, giving the dog a concerned look.

  The dog’s eyes were bright and deep brown with clear whites that showed none of the bloodshot redness or inflamed lids Rachel had seen on the zombies. She held her hand out, taking care to remain outside the chain’s arc. The dog whined but didn’t seem interested in biting her. Besides the bloody muzzle, he only had a few splatters of dried blood on the rest of his coat. She inched her hand closer, and his tongue snaked out, trying to lick her fingers. She took a step closer and the dog crabbed over and sat. When she scratched his neck, one of his back feet started to bounce like a sewing machine.

  “I think he’s okay.” Rachel knelt down and checked his tags while Brent stepped up and scratched the dog’s shoulders. “His name’s AJ,” Rachel announced, unclipping the chain from his collar.

  AJ spun in a circle and ran around the yard, stopping to pee on one of the bodies he passed.

  “He seems pretty happy,” Brent said. “Come, AJ.”

  The dog ran straight to the boy and sat at his feet.

  “Wow,” Brent said. “He’s smart.”

  Cindy edged closer and put a protective hand on her son’s shoulder while looking at Rachel. “Are you sure he’s safe?”

  “Absolutely not,” Rachel said, smiling and winking at Brent. “But he doesn’t seem to like the zombies much. That makes him okay in my book.” Rachel stood and moved to the next fence. “The place where we need to go should be just a couple more houses away.”

  Brent had a worried look on his face. “What about AJ? You’re not going to leave him here, are you?”

  Rachel smiled. “If you knew me better, Brent, you wouldn’t be worried. I wouldn’t ever leave an animal to fend for itself if I had a choice.” At this point, she might be more likely to save a dog than a person, especially if the person was Cindy. “Come on.” Rachel walked over to the redwood picnic table on the patio. “Help me move this.”

  They carried the table to the yard’s rear corner and pushed it against the fence. Rachel climbed up onto it, checked the adjoining yard for zombies, then jumped down next to Brent and Cindy and clapped Brent on the shoulder. “You and Cindy climb over, then I’ll help AJ.”

  Once Brent and Cindy were on the other side with some whining from Cindy about the damage the fences were doing to her hands, Rachel turned and called the dog. “C’mon, boy,” she stage-whispered, waving her hand at the table in a sort of after you motion that she used to tell her mutts it was time to get in the car or in the house.

  AJ, who had been watching intently, bounded onto the table and soared over the fence into the next yard.

  “Wow!” She heard Brent’s stage-whisper through the fence. “Good boy, AJ!”

  “No wonder he was tied up.” The dog’s leaping ability reminded Rachel of the yellow lab they’d had when she was growing up. Bonzo would escape from just about any fenced yard if left alone too long. Fortunately, he would usually run straight to Rachel’s elementary school where he was well known. Rachel would be allowed out of class to run him home. The dog was such an escape artist, her dad spent most weekends modifying their fence based on Bonzo’s latest escapade. Even the mailman knew and loved the big goof and sometimes brought the dog along on part of his route before bringing him home.

  The thought made her smile as she dropped to the ground on the other side where the three of them were waiting for her. AJ and Brent smiled back, but Cindy was already on her way to th
e house.

  Rachel and her two new friends followed. “So let’s go see if this was all worth it.”

  Cindy looked as scared as she had in the SUV with zombies surrounding their car.

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” Rachel said when she caught up. She wasn’t sure at all, but she didn’t see any point in upsetting Cindy. “Let’s just take this slow and easy.”

  Rachel put her hand on the doorknob and twisted—it was locked. She tapped lightly on the door, three short raps and two long, so anyone inside would know it was a human knocking and not a zombie. She repeated the sequence and waited as she peered in the kitchen window. A shadow moved into the kitchen.

  “Something’s moving in there. Get ready to run,” she said.

  A man appeared on the other side of the kitchen. She knew he wasn’t a zombie because he was holding a large axe across his chest like a rifle.

  “That’s not Andy,” Cindy whined, bobbing up and down and shaking her hands like a kid who had to use the bathroom.

  “Take it easy,” Rachel said. “If Andy’s hurt, he wouldn’t be answering the door, would he?” Cindy looked hopeful. “Let’s see what this guy has to say.”

  Rachel waved and tried to smile reassuringly.

  The guy hesitated until Brent stepped up and waved too. The guy moved to the back door and opened it.

  “Are you Cindy?” he asked in a soft voice

  God forbid. “Actually, I’m Rachel.” Rachel stepped back just in time to avoid Cindy, who bolted past them, sprinted through the kitchen calling her husbands name and disappeared into the front of the house. “That was Cindy,” Rachel said as Brent darted past and followed his mom. “And that was Brent.”

  The man shook his head and smiled. It was a nice smile. He didn’t look like the type to push her out into a horde of zombies.

  “The furball here is AJ.”

  He nodded and knelt down, scratched AJ behind the ears. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” He found the itchy spot on AJ’s neck that caused the bouncing leg and turned to Rachel, still kneeling and scratching. “By the way, I’m Clay.”

  Rachel smiled. Jerry had done the same thing on their first date. As soon as Mandy had started her “snarling defender of the universe” act that had sent more than one would-be boyfriend scurrying for his car, Jerry had dropped to his knees and made friends, just like Clay was doing with AJ. In spite of the way she joked about it, she trusted her furry bodyguard a lot more than she was willing to admit. Dogs knew who was a good person, so she had no trouble accepting AJ’s opinion of Clay.

  Clay stood, gave AJ a last scratch, and turned to head inside. “Andy’s in the living room.” He waved for her to follow. “This way.”

  When Rachel and Clay entered the living room, Cindy and Brent were kneeling next to a couch that looked like it had been salvaged from a hobo camp. They were both kneeling on the floor and hugging a smiling man who had his leg propped on a pile of pillows. The three of them were laughing and crying and looking like a one would expect a reunited family would after almost losing each other in the apocalypse. Cindy seemed to be trying to keep her mascara intact and was dabbing a tissue under her eyes, using a different part of the tissue each time. The rest of the room matched the couch. Peeling floral wallpaper and threadbare rugs were only partially visible around stacks of newspapers and boxes of unknown origin. Everything had a layer of grime that reminded Rachel of the hoarder houses Jerry had described visiting where he and Mike did their best not to touch anything they didn’t absolutely have to.

  Watching the happy reunion made Rachel want to run right back out and point the Subaru toward home—except the Subaru wasn’t likely to be going anywhere ever again. And anyway, it was getting too late in the afternoon to start out again.

  She realized Clay was talking to her. She blinked and focused on him. “Sorry? I was thinking of something else.”

  “I said, I can’t believe you made it. This morning, it seemed like the chances were getting pretty low.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Rachel. “From what Andy told me, Cindy’s a really nice lady and a great mom, but not the most capable person in the world.”

  Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

  “So, how did you three end up together?”

  Rachel was about to answer when Brent said, “Dad, that’s Rachel. She’s totally awesome. She’s killed, like, hundreds of zombies. And she knows all about them. She tricked them and saved us. And she rescued AJ, too.”

  Clay looked at Rachel, eyebrows climbing his forehead. “Hundreds? Really?”

  “He’s exaggerating. Maybe thirty or forty, and some of those were with the car.”

  Clay’s eyes widened some more. “Remind me not to make you mad. Especially if you have a set of car keys in your hand.”

  Rachel smiled. “What about you? How’d you and Andy get together?”

  “I found Andy here the day before yesterday when I ducked in to hide from some zombies. I would have fallen into the same hole.” He pointed toward the front door where Rachel could just see the edges of jagged floorboards past a huge box labeled Fritos lunchbox-sized chips. “He yelled before I ended up on top of him. I dragged him up here, found some painkillers and some food. He said he wouldn’t go anywhere till Cindy and Brent got here so we settled in to wait.”

  Rachel related an abbreviated version of how she’d found Cindy and Brent and their trip in the Subaru, assisted by a few more of Brent’s exaggerations, until it suddenly felt like she was carrying a thousand pounds in her backpack. She shrugged out of the shoulder straps and let it thump to the floor, then collapsed into an armchair that was just as battered and grubby as the couch. She couldn’t be bothered to worry about where the thing had been. The gore and blood on her clothes were no doubt way worse than anything she would encounter on the furniture.

  “So where were you when this all went down?” Clay claimed an identical armchair opposite Rachel’s and plopped down. A puff of dust rose around him.

  “In Boulder,” Rachel said, barely able to force the words out. Scenes from the past few days flashed through her mind. Linda and the Walshes, then Gary and the Wilson’s camp. Would she have been better off with them? Cindy and Brent wouldn’t have been here without her, and neither would AJ. So much had happened to her, and she still wasn’t home. She felt so tired, she closed her eyes and wondered if it would ever get any easier.

  “You made it from Boulder?” Clay asked. His voice rose in disbelief. “I couldn’t make it five blocks without having to hide in here.”

  Rachel nodded without looking at him. “With a little detour through Wheatridge. I was on my way to Denver to meet my husband when I found these two. We had to backtrack.”

  “And you were fighting zombies all the way?”

  “Not really. To be honest, I feel like I’ve had more trouble with the humans.” Everyone’s eyes were on her as she described the trip. She managed to filter her language pretty well when she gave an abbreviated version of her fight with the tweakers, but she couldn’t restrain herself when she got to that dickhead Gary. Cindy made a face but kept her thoughts about Rachel’s potty mouth to herself. “Anyway,” she said when she finished, “the zombies are a little slow, so, you know….” she kind of trailed off, realizing she was minimizing her accomplishments, something Jerry had been trying to get her to stop doing.

  “Damn!” Clay said and looked at Brent. “You’re right, kid. She is totally awesome.”

  “I’ll second that,” added Andy. “You see stuff like that in movies, but I never thought people could actually do it. Look what happened to me.” He started to lift his leg but winced as soon as he moved it. “So how’d you know how to do all that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve really been running on autopilot most of this time. Well, not autopilot, really. It’s just that I never really thought about anything, I just did it.” Rachel explained Jerry’s breakfast conversations, her survival kit, and their discussi
on about how to survive.

  “The rest of us have been caught completely off guard by this,” Andy said. He gave her a questioning look. “Where do we go from here?”

  What the actual fuck?

  Everyone was looking at her with the same puppy dog eyes, like she was their fucking savior or something. She had reunited Cindy with her husband. Now she was supposed to be on her way, but they wanted her to tell them what to do? “I don’t have an actual plan.” If they knew how clueless she was, maybe they’d let her leave. “More of a goal. Get back to my house, find Jerry and the dogs. Jerry’s friends have a place to ride things out till they can decide on the best place to survive permanently. I guess I’ll head there next. So far, though, it’s not working so great. I seem to be going backwards.”

  “Do you think maybe that’s because you’ve been trying to do it alone?” Clay asked.

  “Well, getting together with people hasn’t worked out the best either,” Rachel said.

  Clay winced and nodded. “Still, if you had had someone to watch your back, that asshole Gary might not have been able to sneak up on you.”

  Cindy frowned, no doubt upset about his language. Rachel smiled at how he’d repeated her very thoughts.

  “How about this?” Clay continued. “I, for one, think there’s strength in numbers. And I would really like your help.” He smiled and winked. “Also, I promise not to try throwing you to the zombies.”

  “Well, that’s comforting,” Rachel snorted. She looked at Cindy and her family and raised a hand to run it through her hair, a nervous habit she’d had since she was a kid. Her fingers found only the ragged bits of her new butch hairstyle. “You’re all down for this?”