The Famished 1 - Taking on the Dead

by Annie Walls

  I put my hand on her shoulder, “Nadine?” I say in a small voice that I don’t recognize. “Here, this might help you relax.” It is hard not knowing how to deal with people. “I know you’re having a tough time. You’re so brave and strong. I crossed the line.”

  Suddenly, her head jerks up. I pull my hand back with rising panic, and the drink sloshes around. Her face is red from crying, making her strawberry blonde hair stand out. I breathe, safe with the knowledge she is not yet a zombie. She takes the drink with shaky hands. “Not so brave and strong now, am I? I don’t blame you. If I were you, I would have shot me yesterday,” she says matter-of-factly. I smile automatically and she snorts out a small laugh.

  She sips the bourbon as my heart steadies its beat to a normal pace. “I think I’m going to get one of those,” I say.

  Sipping my own drink, I’m watching her as Harley ducks into the bunker. “Ready? I think I got the hang of the crossbow, so I’m ready when you are.” She nods as he helps her to her feet. She is steadier than I would have thought in her state of mind. I have a feeling something is not right with her.

  With Nadine and Harley gone, I start the corn cakes, since the beans have been simmering all day. I got the corn cake recipe from a ‘live like your ancestors’ book with simple recipes. It’s great for living on the land and ‘how-to’s for basic cleaning materials, like homemade soap. Luckily, I don’t have to make my own soap. The soap I do have comes from looting trips. The reference books my dad picked up a year before the outbreak have come in handy. Everyone thought he was loony. Looks like the joke is on them. I admit, I thought so too, but he was an intelligent man. A man worth listening to.

  Around sundown, I’m flipping corn cakes while Kale is on the couch looking through an album of photographs and drawings of old, abandoned barns. I swallow a lump in my throat, not entirely comfortable with what he’s doing. Bridget watches me make corncakes closely, as though learning a new task.

  “Do you want to make some?” I ask. She washed her hair, and the blonde gleams, but her crude, uneven bob is distinct.

  “Sure,” she says, taking over my spatula and flipping them. “Who are the people in the pictures?” she whispers.

  I close my eyes. “Who do you think? My family,” I snap. She just stares at me while I needlessly stir the pot of beans, hoping for a change in conversation.

  She continues anyway, “That guy doesn’t look much like your brother, was he adopted?” She must mean Malachi. He was family, and was going to be for the rest of our lives. I frown into the pot of pinto beans.

  “No, he was my boyfriend. We were together a long time.” I want to be mean, but it comes out softly. She wants to ask more, but the bunker door opens, saving me.

  I’m sad for whatever animal Harley managed to catch. He ducks into the bunker, and Kale jumps up.

  “You catch anything?” He must be hungry for meat. About that time, I notice the grim expression on Harley’s face, and Nadine isn’t with him.

  Chapter 6

  We find out Nadine turned quickly and without warning. To save himself, Harley shot her. I don’t want to think too much about this; since she just turned, it was probably like killing a human. He doesn’t give details, and no one asks. After that, the mood is somber. Harley’s drinking bourbon from the bottle. Too grief stricken to get a glass. I don’t really blame him, but I’m relieved it’s over. My relief isn’t shared by the other occupants of the bunker.

  Bridget left for the house without eating a while ago. I thought Kale might comfort her, but he didn’t. Instead, he shares the bottle with Harley. Soon, they are both drunk. Harley mumbles to himself for a while, something my mother had done. I don’t bother him. He eventually passes out on the loveseat. I’m cleaning up the mess from cooking corncakes when I feel hands on my hips.

  Turning around, I push him away. “Kale, you’re drunk.” I try to keep the disgust out of my voice. His hands return to roaming up my sides, then back down my arms. He smells like dusty old clothes, his eyes glassy, and when his lips hungrily crush mine, the alcohol vapors penetrate my nose. I hadn’t seen him drink very much. He is skinny, with a boyish figure. Damned lightweight. I get a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, from kissing someone for the first time in a very long time. I go with it and open my mouth to him, putting my hands on his chest. He takes this as a sign, and his hands grope my rear. I gently push him away. He breathes heavy, looking at me through his hair.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask him. His hands slide back around my hips and he tries to pull me toward him. I hold him at a distance with my palms.

  “You looked like a goddamned goddess of war.” Picking up one of my long dread locks, he fiddles with it. It takes me a minute to figure out what he’s saying, because who says things like that? I guess the first impression stuck with him. I should use this opportunity to drill him. Where did they come from? What do they know? How long have zombies been so expeditious? Looking at him, I can’t do it. It’s impossible to bring myself to take advantage of him. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression, even though, it seems too late for that.

  “You should go to bed, Kale. We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say, shoving him out of my personal space.

  He smirks at me the best he can, which is awkward, and plants another sloppy kiss. I just stand there, silently wishing him out of my bunker.

  He starts backing toward the door. “More where that came from,” he warns as he turns to go up the steps. When he shuts the door of the bunker, I let out a breath.

  As much as I’m relieved that he is gone, my heart leaps. I grin to myself. “I still got it.”

  ***

  Faces from the old life flow through my subconscious like spokes on a wheel. Laughter turns into snarls and fades out.

  “Do it, Kansas! Please! I don’t want to hurt you or become one of them.” Big brown eyes, gleaming in the moonlight with unshed tears, plead with me. Warm blood splatters my face as it oozes across the concrete. It fades as I hear myself whimper.

  “We should have kept her,” my dad says to me, as he paces tracks into the living room carpet. “It would have done you some good to know the stages of decomposition.” I look at him, and his injured face shows nothing but endless sadness.

  It fades again, my dad sweats, coughs, and gags. “You remember everything,” he rasps. “But most of all, remember how much I love you, Sunshine.”

  “No!” I scream in rage as it fades again.

  “Kan, let me help you!” a voice I don’t recognize yells at me. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, dammit!”

  I wake up with sheen of sweat covering my body. My tank sticks to me. I glance around for Harley, but he’s no longer here.

  It was just a dream – I knew it – because I dream that dream all the time. I replay it in my mind. My family, creepy faces of the undead, are always the stars. Malachi screaming for me to kill him while looking at me with love. His bloody Predator’s shirt still haunts me. My dad grappling with my mother, his arm slipping from her shoulder, her teeth sinking into his jaw. All happening just before I put an arrow through my mother’s brain. My dad, drowning in grief, his face red, puffy, and feverish. We shouldn’t have waited for my mother to turn.

  We wanted to see someone go through the change. To learn every stage, every symptom. He made me swear I wouldn’t do it to another person. I couldn’t kill him, like I did Malachi. Dad made it easier on me, and he hadn’t begged. In the end, he made me tie him down. I promised to finish it when the time came. My dad’s crazed bloodshot eyes, teeth grinding while drool dribbled down his chin onto his Apple Inc. t-shirt.

  I am always aware of a stranger who keeps helping me. I can’t see him, but I know he is there. My dreaming self is always glad for this part. The only time I feel safe. Maybe my subconscious just has wishful thinking. It was only a dream, after all.

  As I’m getting dressed, I think about brushing my hair, which is a ridiculous notion. I wash myself and brush
my teeth, sure. Brushing my hair? I haven’t cared about that in a long time. Hence the dreads. I also like them, but I look more like a cave dweller in combat boots than a goddess of war. I like the description Kale gave me. In the end, I just wrap a scarf around my head to keep my locks from my face.

  When I go outside my mood lifts as I realize it’s the middle of the day. How long will this weather last? It’s beautiful, sunny, and clear, but hot. The turning trees start to droop from the dry, hot days.

  “Summer doesn’t want to die,” I mumble to myself.

  I feel bad for not sympathizing about Nadine. I hardly knew her. I’m sad it happened, but glad it didn’t happen while we slept. That it is over. What’s Harley planning now?

  My mood drifts downward. There is a pond I spotted when I first scouted the area and laid trip string. I use it for swimming on really hot days. It might have water. This time of year it’s usually too dry, but it’s worth checking out. I go back into the bunker to change clothes for swimming. I contemplate making oats, but I’m not hungry. I’m sure Harley and Kale are still asleep. Bridget can fend for herself. Grabbing my pack, I toss in a pop-top can of fruit and head out. I’m so happy about the pond idea. I haven’t had a swim in a couple of months, and I love the opportunity to do different physical activities. My thoughts are interrupted by Kale.

  “Where you going?” he bellows, his head hanging out the back door. I study him. Did I want to be alone with him? Not really.

  “I’m going to see if there is water in a pond maybe three miles south.” I start toward the back door, but pause. “You and Bridget want to join me?” I try to act indifferent, but I don’t know if I succeed. “Shouldn’t you have a hangover?” Curiosity getting the best of me, I have to know.

  He flashes me a wicked smile, “Nah, I didn’t drink that much. I couldn’t sleep. A swim does sound good.” He shakes his head to one side, dislodging the hair from his eyes.

  “Okay, but don’t get your hopes up. I really don’t know if there is water in it. How is Bridget doing?” I ask, hoping she’s all right. She left in a hurry right after she found out about Nadine.

  “Uh, she’s not doing too good at all. I don’t think she’d want to go.” He sounds uncertain.

  “Well, I’ll go ask her.” I start for the door again, but he blocks my way.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s with Harley.” He can only manage a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t realize how much Nadine affected him too. She was like a mother to them, a confidante.

  “They’re talking about leaving soon, Kan.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Could we try to have fun today?”

  My heart skips uncertainly. They plan to leave. I have many mixed emotions. I like my life of seclusion and safety. Maybe one day the world will find a cure, pick up and try to start over. I want to be around when that happens. Right now, it’s not safe. They’ll be fighting for their lives until they make it to Birmingham. They already lost one on the way. I’m not sure if I want to be alone anymore. I can’t make them stay, but I won’t make them leave. That is their decision.

  “Let’s go and have fun. I think we both need to take our minds off things,” I say with a smile, even though being alone with Kale isn’t a preference.

  Kale, seeing an opportunity to joke with me, laughs and says, “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” At least his nervousness and anxiety are gone. I hope he can walk fast.

  We reach the pond in a little under an hour, my excitement growing the whole way. Considering the brush, we make good time. We whoop and cheer when we find water. The pond’s man-made, cut out in a semi circle, the size of a large gymnasium. The smell in the air is that of damp grass, mud, and stagnant water. Locusts buzz nearby. Kale and I can walk in slowly or jump in at the other end, which is a sort of a drop off like a cliff. There’s plenty of water, about five feet at the deepest part. I can see through the water to the murky bottom.

  Perfect. It’s more than I could ask for. Even if it is nasty and murky, I’m still going to swim in it. In my jeans and boots, sweat coats my body from the heat and the hike to get here.

  I’m keenly aware of Kale stripping down to his underwear – boxers with a plaid design. I’m not the modest type, so I do the same, leaving my tank top over my swimsuit.

  “Try not to pee, or drink the water. Lots of parasites lurk in there, waiting for hosts,” I tell him, checking to make sure my cut is scabbed over.

  He laughs, “You’re worried about germs?”

  “Not germs, parasites. I haven’t survived this long without worrying about creepy-crawlies. To jump or not to jump is really the question,” I announce, and wave my arms dramatically.

  Face to face, we both say, “Jump!” We run around to the other side, pushing each other out of the way, each trying to be first. My feet feel every stick and stone. They’re sensitive from wearing boots twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So of course, he arrives first, and jumps in.

  He swims around, “It’s warm! Come on!”

  I glance at the bottoms of my feet to make sure I don’t have any open cuts. He notices and laughs. With a glare at him, I cannon ball in. The water isn’t deep enough to tread, but I can swim around. Kale splashes me to get my attention, “Anyone ever told you that you take things too seriously?”

  I splash back and scoff, “No. I was always told I didn’t take things serious enough. People change when the survival instinct takes over.”

  We have a splash fight, and I jump on his back to try to dunk him. The water isn’t deep enough and he keeps his balance.

  “Man, my feet are sinking into mud. It feels weird,” he laughs.

  I laugh too, “Well, just let me dunk you already!” I’m not using all my strength. If I remember correctly, the male ego is a fragile thing. His head goes under water, and then his feet come up with mud between his toes. I’m smiling when his head pops out above the water, and he promptly starts digging the mud out from between his toes.

  “This is great,” he says. “I haven’t really seen you enjoy yourself. It makes you ... prettier.”

  I shrug as I let my body float to the top, look up at the sky, and relax. Kale takes my hand and I realize he’s floating too. I close my eyes and let the sun heat my face. My locks float around me. We both float. I can feel myself relaxing enough to fall asleep.

  Opening my eyes, I find Kale watching me. His wet hair sticks to his face. The emotion running across it makes my stomach drop. Not wanting to see a look like that, I turn my face so he can’t see it, then raise my other hand and splash him.

  “Hey!” he shouts. I grin and he grabs me around the waist. He picks me up and tosses me into the water. I don’t go under. He grabs me again and pulls me to him. Not wanting to be face to face, I try to swim away. He attempts to put my head under. Eventually, I let him.

  That’s how we spend the most glorious afternoon I’ve had since the outbreak. We have water fights, races, jumps, and a snack. Most of all, we laugh all afternoon and don’t talk about what was or what is to be. I’m sad when the sun is in the West, but I want to be back well before sundown. We’re covered in mud. Feet and legs mostly, and my white tank isn’t white anymore.

  “Hey Kale, if we put mud on our faces we could pass as swamp things,” I joke, handing him a towel to wipe off with.

  He laughs, “I think we already are.” He peers at me, “This was the best, Kan. Thank you.” I shrug.

  “We should get going,” he says quietly, looking at the ground.

  “You’re right.” I watch him curiously. He’s being mysterious. I can admit it turns me on a little. I can also admit it’s because I haven’t seen a nearly naked male in a long time.

  He finishes toweling off, and I turn to dry myself. My tank’s wet and dirty and so is my body. I put my socks and boots on. I’m sure it looks ridiculous, but I’m practical. It’s definitely not for his benefit. When he does the same, I feel a little better. I put our dry clothes in my pack and start t
oward home.

  We walk most of the way in silence, and reach the field just before my neighborhood. I’m counting the slaps my hatchet makes against my thigh when Kale grabs my hand.

  “Wait, before we get back, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wish that… I know you want to stay here,” he adds quickly. “Harley didn’t want to say anything, but we think that camp in Clarksville is being run by zombies.” I stare at him a little dazed. His face holds a serious expression.

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured when the broadcasts stopped. The zombies infiltrated them. I just hope a big research project wasn’t going on there – it was a big army base,” I say, and hope someone’s looking for a cure or something.

  “Um, that’s not what I meant….”

  “Kale? What do you mean?” I ask slowly, with sudden uneasiness.

  “We figured you really didn’t know, since you’ve been isolated. I mean the zombies are infiltrating and running the camp. We think they are keeping humans like livestock. We are guessing to conserve food.”

  “What? How? Why?” I am on the verge of becoming hysterical. I pull away. “Why keep it from me?” I think out loud.

  “Calm down, please. I d-don’t know Harley’s motivation, but he didn’t want to tell you. We don’t know much. We’re trying to figure it out,” his face contorts with panic.

  “No, you’re just saying this to get me to come with you! I don’t believe you – they’re looking for a cure. I just know it. We’re not going down without a fight!” I start marching through the field. He races to catch up and grabs my shoulder, wrenching me around.

  “I never said they weren’t,” he yells back at me. “I was just saying the zombies are adapting in a weird freaking way!”

  “Then you guys shouldn’t go anywhere. What if they are doing the same to the one in Birmingham?” His eyes get wide as he shakes his head.